#A Key To Open A Faded Memory
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WANT • S. REID X READER
smut (mdni, you will be blocked); needy spencer; praise; fem!reader; oral (f receiving); possessive wording; ~1.1k words
Spencer was, for lack of better word, whipped.
Morgan would say pussy-whipped, but Spencer wasn’t fond of that. Just because he liked you, would stop what he’s doing at the drop of a hat for you… it was for more than your body.
Even if it was beautiful.
He could remember every curve, every scar, every wrinkle, envision it clearly in his mind's eye.
God, he missed you.
“Hey, boy genius,” Morgan calls, and he snaps back to attention. “Staring at your file won’t get it done,”
“I know,” Spencer grumbles, going to make more coffee. He sends you a text — miss you. — when he does. He’s not one for that, preferring calls and time together, and knows you’ll piece it together.
It’s an excruciating hour and a half that it takes to get the paperwork done and put in and to drive back to your shared apartment.
He relaxes even as he puts his key into the lock, door opening to the smell of your body wash.
His eyes find you first, dressed in one of his shirts, hair still wet.
“Oh.”
He lets it click shut behind him, eyes trailing up and down you shamelessly.
“Missed me?” You tease, and he nods. You wrap him in a hug, clingy as ever. He melts into you.
With you wrapping him in your arms, he has no choice but to stumble to the couch and let you sit him down and straddle him, lightly tracing the smile lines that won’t fade as he looks at you.
“Pretty boy,” you coo, and he smiles more. “What’s going on in your head?”
He makes a show of pretending to think and grab the thought before meeting your eyes. “Thinking about how gorgeous you are,”
You beam at him, and he wills the image to sear itself into his memory.
You’re so warm and soft above him, just supple skin and delicious smells that make his head spin with need, nothing on but his shirt and a pair of flimsy panties. He can feel everything, and it drives him insane, fingers twitching against your thighs.
“Spence,” you whisper. “Words, baby,”
“You’re so soft,” he exhales quickly and you cock a brow, letting him trail his fingers to your inner thigh, where he draws circles.
He wants to pull your panties to the side so badly. But he knows to wait.
“Yeah? I moisturized today.” You give him a smile, sultry and enticing, and then you tug your (his) shirt off, pressing your breasts into his chest. “Feel. Soft, right?”
He obeys, trailing his fingertips so lightly it raises goosebumps. His mind feels like it’s full of cotton. “Yeah–yeah, soft,” he clears his throat, wanting to nibble hickeys into the skin. With effort, he tears his eyes away and to your face. “And so gorgeous. Like always.”
You hum, tap a finger against his temple. He leans into your hand, desperate for the touch. “Thank you, baby,”
He stares at you in silence, forcing back thoughts of what he wants.
“Wanna prove how much you missed me?”
“Please,” his tone is almost reverent, and he should be ashamed how easily he folds for you; how he wants to be on or in you, always; how he wants and wants and wants, and how it’s never enough; how he’s happiest with your smell and touch overwhelming his senses.
“Show me.”
Spencer slips to the floor on his knees, pressing a kiss to the side of your knee. He crawls his hands up slowly, lets them hook in the waistband of your panties and tug. He thumbs the wet spot before dropping them to the ground, and he knows his eyes are blown out when he stares at your beautiful pussy, glistening with your need for him.
He exhales shakily and shuffles closer, presses a kiss to your thigh before licking a stripe up your core. He groans at the taste, shutting his eyes when you whimper at the sensation — the sight of your chest heaving, eyes glazed over already, head thrown back as far as you could while keeping your gaze trained on him… it was too much.
Spencer circles your clit with his tongue before kissing it, letting your thighs squeeze around him with an eager moan.
He shifts a little lower, nose bumping into your clit as he dips his tongue into you. You shudder, whimper his name like he’s helping you see heaven, and he sighs, sloppily licking into you.
He normally has good technique but he’s already so drunk off your taste, ears buzzing and face burning hot, red with desire and loss of air.
Spencer only whines when you tug on his hair and yank him back, reveling in the way it stings.
“Breathe, Spence,”
He nods, head swimming. He wants — god, he wants you spread open on his fingers and tongue, quivering under the stimulation, sweating and sobbing from how good it feels; he wants you to help him get off, wants you to fuck him until he can barely breathe and it aches to be touched; he wants you to mark him and he wants to be called yours.
“‘m yours,”
“Hm?” It comes off airy and whiny as he sucks your clit back into his mouth.
He takes a bit to answer, pulling back breathlessly. “Tell me I’m yours,”
“You’re mine,” you tell him, tugging his hair and shoving him back into you. He whimpers. Loudly. “You’re my good boy, you’ll do what I say, yeah?”
He nods vigorously, getting sloppier and sloppier, more whimpers and vibrations into you than coordinated movement.
“Spence. My love,” you gasp, arching up into him. “Make me cum,”
Spencer nips your clit, just enough for you to shriek and melt under him after tensing.
“Mine, my pretty fuckin’ girl,” he’s incoherent, babbling. “So sweet and pretty, always ready for me, such a sweet girl… tastes as good as you look, as you talk,” Spencer locks eyes with you finally, and he swears he could cum from how dazed you are alone.
You wail as he finally tips you over the edge, and Spencer can’t stop. Not when you taste so good, and all he can smell is your arousal coating his chin and your thighs, when you’re shaking around him and all he wants is for you to do it again.
It takes you yanking him away from you for his mind to clear a little from the fog, breathing heavily and eyes trained on your pussy until you guide him to look at you.
“Enough, baby,” you coo, rubbing your slick off his chin. “Give me a breather,”
He whines.
“Pussy-whipped,” you coo, and he can only nod. “Just give me a second and you can have me again,”
Spencer licks his lips. “Thank you.”
fuck it we ball (not proofread which.. expect that. when it comes to my works). i need him so bad. gif is my own :)
#my works#mdni#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid fanfiction
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Lavender Haze | Matt Sturniolo
Matt Sturniolo x reader
Summary: Where Y/N drowns amidst so much criticism and negative comments from the media regarding her relationship, but Matt is right by her side to bring her back to the surface and surround her in a lavender haze.
Warning: Mentions of hate, slightly angst.
Requested?: No.
Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
A/N²: This fic was written for the Challenge for the writers 2024 made by @annamcdonalds67
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Staring at the ceiling with you
Oh, you don't ever say too much
Y/N lay down next to Matt on the double bed that decorated the room. The soft gloom emanated from the corner lamp, painting the scene with orange tones. Their intertwined fingers on the mattress formed a comforting bond, a silent affirmation of each other's presence there. Together, they observed the ceiling as if they were tracing constellations on the white paint in their minds.
The silence that surrounded them was serene, and their synchronized breathing seemed to compose a soft song. Matt knew that sometimes words were unnecessary. There was no need to try to force empty conversations when each other's presence was enough.
Y/N's thoughts, however, were a whirlwind. The sudden exposure that accompanied her relationship with Matt - which they just had revealed to the public some months before - had left her overwhelmed, despite her boyfriend's advance warnings about what followed him with his career. As someone who preferred a low-key life, being dragged into the spotlight of fame was suddenly a big experience.
While her body was physically in the room, her mind felt the weight of these thoughts slowly crushing her. It was an internal battle to maintain sanity amid the media storm that surrounded them.
And you don't really read into
My melancholia
Matt, on his side, noticed the melancholy in Y/N's eyes and the way her brow was constantly frowning, but he respected her silence. He understood the pressure she faced; the crazed fans who used her words against herself and criticized every second of the videos she made a little appearance or was only mentioned, and his heart burned to be able to help her more, but he knew that trying to interpret her thoughts could only increase her distress, his own mind bringing him the mere memory of the episode from some night's before.
To the soft sound of popcorn crackling in the kitchen next door, Y/N anxiously waited for Matt on the made bed, wrapped in the comfort of the fluffy comforter. Her phone rested in her hands, and she slid her fingers across the screen to access her Instagram feed. A notification caught her attention, a tag on a photo posted by the boy.
With an anticipated smile, Y/N opened the post and found herself among the images of a photo dump posted a few hours ago. Her heart filled with warmth when she saw the picture of them together, the girl didn't know how to explain what she felt when she saw him post so openly about them, having gone through difficult situations in this regard in her previous relationship.
However, her smile faded when she swiped down and was met with an avalanche of comments. Thousands of cruel words and cutting criticisms flooded the massive list. Comments that questioned who she thought she was, insinuations that she wasn't good enough, and that Matt deserved someone better. Every word was a blow to her heart, a confirmation of all the fears and insecurities she had kept hidden inside.
Feeling crushed by the virtual pressure, a wave of anguish enveloped her. Tears began to blur her vision as she struggled to contain her overflowing emotions, not wanting to appear vulnerable in the situation, much less worry Matt.
Her head filled with questions, how could she compete with the unrealistic expectations of those who observed her life through a screen?
Minutes passed in a second for her, the sound of the door opening again echoed softly, Matt's figure entering the room following it, the tempting smell of popcorn floating in the air and a childish smile decorating his face. His smile fell instantly when he saw Y/N holding the phone tightly with one of her hands, tears rolling down her face while her other hand pressed her mouth, forcing away the sobs.
"Hey, hey, babe, what happened?" Matt ran over to her, his tone full of worry, leaving the bucket of popcorn on the bedside table and kneeling next to her on the bed.
Y/N sobs as she tries to explain, showing him the cruel comments that filled her entire screen, the device shaking slightly as a result of her trembling fingers.
Matt felt his heart break when he saw the suffering on Y/N's face and the ridiculous words in front of him. Him mind was divided between helping her or posting something obscene, full of insults, and totally guided from his emotional side.
The boy sighs, closing his eyes and wishing to take the bad things away from his girl before sitting properly next to her, wrapping her in his arms affectionately and bringing her head to his chest, sealing her hair line for long seconds.
"I'm so sorry, petal. I didn't know this was going to happen. I should have thought before posting..." He murmured, gently stroking her back as Y/N clings to him for comfort. "I'll figure it out, I promise."
I been under scrutiny (yeah, oh, yeah)
You handle it beautifully (yeah, oh, yeah)
All this shit is new to me (yeah, oh, yeah)
With that, it was known that Y/N was constantly under the relentless eyes of the fandom and obsessed fanpages, her every move being dissected and analyzed minutely by the voracious eyes of anonymous people. But that was the price to pay for dating a public figure.
While facing this incessant storm of unsolicited attention, she couldn't help but admire how Matt, despite his issues with anxiety and certain unnecessary comments left by people who called themselves fans, handled the problems of notoriety with admirable patience and calm.
He seemed so comfortable on camera alongside his brothers, so skilled at ignoring invasive situations that Y/N often found herself questioning how he did it. However, for her, this was all unfamiliar and intimidating territory, too new.
Although she passionately wanted to quickly adapt to this new lifestyle, as she had no plans to leave Matt, she also found herself racing toward an uncertain direction, trying to keep her sanity and identity intact amid the media chaos that surrounded her.
The couch enveloped them in a comfortable embrace as Y/N and Matt enjoyed the peace of the silent living room, the soft sound of a Disney movie echoing in the background. Matt's arms around Y/N were a sanctuary of calm, warming her body and bringing her a comfort that made her feel like she could sleep any moment. It was one of those rare moments when they could simply exist t the interference of the fast-paced world around them.
Matt, with a sigh of contentment, reached for his phone, curious to see how the car video they had posted a few minutes ago was doing, eager to see what the fans thought of the themes brought up.
Quickly, he opened the YouTube app and scrolled through the comments. Among a flood of compliments and kind words, however, some less favorable comments caught his attention. Some criticized the way he was quieter than usual, while others questioned why he was even part of the videos, as he had nothing to add.
Matt rolled his eyes in a dismissive gesture as he turned the screen of his phone towards Y/N, allowing her to read the comments that filled the space.
"Look at that." Matt said, exasperated. "These people have nothing better to do than criticize anything and everything. Immature teenagers who love to point out only negative things." He muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.
Locking the screen of his phone with a brusque gesture, he left it aside on the couch, refusing to let the negative comments ruin his moment of peace. The boy turned to Y/N again, his smile returning as if nothing had happened and wrapping his arms around her once more.
"Sorry about that, pretty girl." The brunette asked softly against her skin, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder. "Sometimes people just need to spread negativity to feel better about themselves. But let's not let that get to us, hm?" He lifted his head from where it was, smiling small at his girl before pressing small seals on the exposed skin of her shoulders and neck, eliciting loud laughter from the girl.
[...] All they keep asking me (all they keep asking me)
Is if I'm gonna be your bride
The only kind of girl they see (the only kind of girl they see)
Is a one-night or a wife
Post after post from the significant number of fans who adored them together claimed that they were "endgame", as they had been in a relationship for over a year and seemed to be going strong.
But the comments that followed were always like a punch to the gut for Y/N. Some argued that she was Matt's future bride, while others insinuated that she was just a "gold digger", there to take advantage of his fame and money, like a one night stand, before eventually leaving him.
Y/N's feelings fluctuated between anger and sadness. How dare they question her true feelings for Matt? How could they judge their relationship based on unfounded assumptions and speculation? They were only 20 years old, marriage was out of the question at that moment, and they both knew that this kind of thing is something planned and thought out together, never done for the emotion of the moment or to meet the needs of others.
A feeling of helplessness invaded her when she read those things, accompanied by a hint of doubt. Y/N felt deep pain due to the lack of trust and support from Matt's own fans. She had tried so hard to be a positive presence in his life, to love and support him unconditionally, and to make the people who meant the most to him and who brought him to the top really like her.
And now, she was faced with the cruelty of strangers who were ready to judge her without even truly knowing her.
I find it dizzying (yeah, oh, yeah)
They're bringing up my history (yeah, oh, yeah)
But you weren't even listening (yeah, oh, yeah)
Y/N felt constantly dizzy with everything that was happening around her. It was as if she was in the eye of a media hurricane, where waves of curiosity and intrusion were endlessly engulfing her. Even with her social networks private, she found herself inundated by a flood of fanatical fans, eager to discover even the smallest detail of her life.
The triplets' YouTube videos, in which she participated, were constant targets of investigation by fans. Every word, every gesture captured by the camera, was analyzed. And the boys' posts, where she occasionally appeared, were scoured thoroughly for any hint of her personal life.
The simple act of even appearing on a TikTok for a brief second was enough to trigger a new wave of speculation and conspiracy theories from fans. Y/N felt like she was looking over her shoulder every moment.
This growing fear began to affect her willingness to participate in the brothers' videos and appear on their social media. She retreated into the shadows, avoiding the curious eyes that surrounded her.
Meanwhile, Matt scrolled through his social media feed, the cruel and mean comments about Y/N flashed on his phone screen at every moment. "She only wants to hurt him", "She's only with him for the money", "She will run away at the first opportunity". The words penetrated like sharp knives, but he faced them with a calm expression.
He could feel the anger pulsing through his veins. The injustice of these accusations made him want to scream. But he forced himself to remain calm, to take a deep breath and remember what really mattered.
Matt knew Y/N better than he knew himself. He knew she wasn't a gold digger, that she wasn't with him out of interest or for any petty reason. He knew that she genuinely loved him, that they shared the same dreams and fears, joys, and sadness.
So he ignored the negative comments, the people who hid behind anonymous profiles to spread venom and hate. Sometimes, he even had the small pleasure of responding to these accusations with an ironic comment or a joke, knowing that, deep down, none of it mattered.
Because he trusted Y/N. He loved her more than anything in the world, and nothing could shake that unshakable trust he had in her.
[...] Talk your talk and go viral (oh, oh, oh)
I just need this love spiral (oh, oh, oh)
Get it off your chest (woah, woah, woah, woah)
Get it off my desk (get it off my desk)
Talk your talk and go viral (oh, oh, oh)
I just need this love spiral (oh, oh, oh)
Get it off your chest
Get it off my desk
But on the other side, the moments of exhaustion seemed to multiply for Y/N, like a lingering shadow that followed her with every step. Increasingly, she found herself sinking into a sea of cruel comments and venomous speculation from the media and fans.
Until a specific moment, where she finally understood that with Matt, she found the strength to fight it gradually. His arms wrapped around her with comforting warmth. His words of encouragement were like a balm to her soul. He supported her in every way possible, constantly reminding her of how much she was loved and valued and that nothing they said mattered.
Y/N slowly learned to filter the noise of the outside world, to block out the negative voices that tried to invade her mind. She no longer allowed the mean comments to get to her, choosing to ignore, block or mute them, allowing them to get everything they wanted off their chest and go viral using her name, and not giving a damn about it.
It was a gradual process, a journey of self-discovery and self-transformation. Y/N still had her moments of weakness, her doubts and fears, like in that moment. But with Matt by her side, she was able to cover her ears and eyes to them.
I feel the lavender haze creeping up on me
Surreal
I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say
No deal
The 1950s shit they want from me
I just wanna stay in that lavender haze
And despite all the bad things, being alone at that moment with Matt in their own haven was comforting. A lavender haze enveloped Y/N gently, like a warm lilac hug amidst the darkness of uncertainty, protecting her from external judgments.
In the comfort of their room, with Matt's presence beside her, she felt as if she could close her eyes and simply let herself be carried away by the constant flow of love she felt for the boy.
Despite the whirlwind of thoughts that danced in her mind along with vague memories of all the futile posts from pages that gossip about artists, demanding surreal things from her as if they had just come out of a time machine to the past, there, in that moment, she allowed herself to sink into the depths of this good feeling.
Matt's presence by her side was like a protective shield, pushing away all her fears and insecurities. His eyes, full of tenderness and understanding, met hers from time to time, conveying a silent message that he was there, ready to face any challenge alongside her. And there was nothing in the world that made him want to leave there.
With one smooth movement, Matt turned briefly to reach for the lavender air freshener that rested on the nightstand next to the bed. He activates the device with a delicate touch, releasing a fragrant mist that fills the room with the sweet scent of the flower. The soft, comforting scent envelops Y/N like a hug, calming her agitated mind and bringing an almost instantaneous feeling of serenity.
The mattress moved with Matt's movements, and he slowly turned around, now lying on his side and facing Y/N. His eyes met hers lovingly, and a smile played on his lips as he moved closer until their bodies were mere inches away.
"You still with me, sweetheart?" His voice was as soft as the cotton beneath their bodies, echoing off the walls that were surrounded by silence for long minutes.
"Uhm." Y/N murmured back, imitating him and turning so that she was lying on her side, facing him, the fog in her mind slowly dissipating.
With soft and delicate movements, Matt wrapped the girl in his arms, bringing her closer to his body, laying her head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart calming hers almost automatically.
"They don't matter, you know?"
Y/N felt a comforting warmth spread throughout her entire being upon hearing the brief and almost insignificant words, but that meant the world to her. She snuggled even closer to Matt, feeling his arms tighten around her waist where they held, allowing herself to sink into them like a safe haven from the storms of the outside world.
Matt lowered his head and gently kissed the top of his girl's head, breathing in the soft scent of lavender shampoo that emanated from her strands. Every touch was filled with love and devotion, a silent promise that he was there.
And so, cradled by the soft haze of love that surrounded them, Y/N and Matt surrendered to the present moment, the girl leaving behind all the worries and fears that haunted her, her heart begging to stay there forever.
I just wanna stay in that lavender haze
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My asks are always open. My requests are closed at the moment since I have many to work in, but you can always send questions or simply talk to me 🩷💋
And remember to treat people with kindness always!
I don't know if I liked it very much, so I'm sorry if it sucked badly 😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻
~ taglist:
@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @thebottledwatersupplier @bellasfavbisexual @soso-scarlettolivia @maryx2xx @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @iammattswife
(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)
#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#x reader#sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#fanfic#fanfiction#fic#imagine#oneshot#fluff#angst#matt sturniolo fic#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo fluff#matt x reader#matthew bernard sturniolo#matthew sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#matt au#matt fanfic#matty#matt#matt sturniolo x yn#matt sturniolo x reader fluff#comfort#Spotify
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Let Me Drive With You, Angel
Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader
Warnings: N/A
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 0.5K
Summary: Everyone wants to drive Rafe's car, but only one other person is allowed to.
Masterlist
The key to his Aston Martin is something that Rafe keeps clutched in his hand with an iron grip. No matter how many times his frat brothers beg him to hand them over for a little spin. “Come on, Rafe. Just a little spin around the block,” Kelce begs, hands running across the hood of the car. Topper laughs, “You seriously think that Rafe would let you, Kelce? That car is his baby. The only person allowed behind the steering wheel is him.” “Yep, this baby doesn’t get driven by anyone but me,” Rafe confirms, watching his friend pout. Y/N walks out from the frat house with her purse over her shoulder. Her hand rounds his shoulder and finds his chest. Her other goes into his pocket for his car key. “I need to go get some groceries. You guys only have beers and vodka in your fridge and that does not go in risotto,” she informs, unlocking the car and sliding into the driver’s seat. Rafe nods and heads to the passenger seat, “Okay, but let me drive with you, Angel.”
Topper and Kelce give each other a look in disbelief. They stop Rafe while his hand is on the car handle. “You let her drive the car?” Topper complains, stepping closer to the car. Y/N opens the car door when she notices Rafe’s hesitance. “Of course, he lets me. Doesn’t he let you guys borrow his car?” she asks, looking at her boyfriend through the passenger’s side window. The other boys shake their heads. “No. Rafe practically sleeps with his hands on his keys. He would rather give up his life than let us drive it,” Kelce exaggerates.
“I won't let you guys drive it because you guys are all horrible drivers. My angel is a very cautious and safe driver, so she gets to drive it,” Rafe explains. Topper chuckles, “That’s really the reason? Because if memory serves me correctly, you are the most reckless driver out of us all. You speed like 50 over the limit.” “Really? Rafe always drives the speed limit when he drives me around,” Y/N thinks out loud. Rafe gets into the car and kisses her on the cheek, looking at the boys through the driver’s window. “This is my car so I’m gonna drive it how I want to. And, Angel, I always drive more carefully with you in the car because you are my precious cargo. Now, let’s get to the store. I’m excited to try your risotto.” With that, Y/N pulls out of the driveway and heads to the grocery store. “They are totally getting married,” Topper states, looking over at Kelce. Kelce nods, “Yeah. If I knew all it took was getting him to fall in love with me, I would’ve tried a long time ago if I could drive that car.” “Like Rafe would ever love you, but agreed,” Topper points out, looking at the fading car in the distance. Both boys couldn’t be more jealous of the girl behind the driver’s seat of that car.
Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121
#let me angel#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron series#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe imagine#rafe cameron x you#rafe fic#rafe#rafe x reader#rafe cameron fic#obx fanfiction#outer banks rafe#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks imagine#outer banks x reader#outerbanks#obx#obx x reader#obx fic#obx fanfic#obx imagine
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hearing you sing and or dance for the first time / en- maknae line
synopsis: their non showbiz girlfriend is caught singing and or dancing alone, performing relatively good. they start to question how you could be so talented but be so secretly about it.
SUNOO 김 선우~
as the sun streamed through the windows of the cozy apartment, sunoo grabbed his keys and headed out the door, his mind focused on the task at hand. he had to pick up some documents from the company before they closed, and he didn't want to waste any time. little did he know, his return would be met with a delightful surprise.
upon his return, sunoo stepped into the living room, expecting to find you engrossed in a book or perhaps preparing a snack. however, the room was empty, save for the faint sound of music drifting from your bedroom. curiosity piqued, sunoo followed the melodic strains, drawn like a magnet to your door.
as he pushed it open, he was greeted by a sight that took his breath away. there you were, standing in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, your eyes closed in concentration as you sang along to one of enhypen's songs. the room seemed to shimmer with the magic of your voice, and sunoo found himself utterly captivated.
for a moment, he simply stood there, unable to tear his gaze away from you. it was as if time had stood still, the world fading away until there was only the two of you and the music that filled the air.
finally, you must have sensed his presence because you stopped singing, your eyes flying open in surprise. sunoo smiled, his heart swelling with admiration for the beauty of the moment.
"that was incredible," he said, his voice filled with awe. "i had no idea you could sing like that."
you blushed, a shy smile playing on your lips as you tried to downplay your talent. but sunoo wouldn't hear of it. he launched into a long and heartfelt compliment, his words tumbling out in a rush as he poured out his admiration for your voice and your talent.
"you have such a beautiful voice," he exclaimed, his eyes shining with sincerity. "i could listen to you sing all day and never get tired of it. you brought that song to life in a way i've never heard before. it was like… like magic."
his words washed over you like a warm embrace, filling you with a sense of joy and contentment unlike anything you had ever known. it was a moment of pure connection, a shared appreciation for something beautiful and fleeting.
and as sunoo continued to lavish you with praise, you couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading through your chest, your heart swelling with happiness at the knowledge that you had touched him in such a profound way. it was a moment you knew you would treasure forever, a memory to hold close to your heart long after the music had faded away.
as sunoo continued to praise your singing, you couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed by all the attention. you tried to laugh it off, saying, "oh, come on, it's not that great. i was just having some fun."
but sunoo was having none of it. "no, really," he insisted. "you have a gift. you should consider auditioning for a talent show or something."
you chuckled, shaking your head. "i don't think i'm ready for that kind of spotlight."
just then, the sound of your stomach growling broke the moment, and both of you burst into laughter. "i think that's my cue to make us some dinner," you said, still giggling.
sunoo grinned. "i'll help. i don't trust your cooking skills after hearing your singing."
you playfully swatted his arm as you headed to the kitchen together, the music still playing softly in the background. it was a simple, silly moment, but it was perfect in its own way, a reminder of the easy, comfortable bond you shared with sunoo.
JUNGWON 양 정원~
as jungwon trudged home from practice, exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders. all he could think about was collapsing into bed and getting some well-deserved rest. but then a thought crossed his mind, a longing to see you, his girlfriend, before he faced the dorms and the inevitable teasing from the other members.
so, he mustered up the courage to ask the manager to drop him off at your place instead. his request was met with raised eyebrows and playful ribbing from his bandmates, but jungwon brushed it off, determined to spend some quality time with you.
as jungwon settled into the back seat of the van, the other members of enhypen eyed him with playful smirks. sunghoon, sitting beside him, couldn't resist teasing. "ah, look who's got a hot date tonight," he teased, nudging jungwon with his elbow.
heeseung, from the front seat, joined in with a grin. "going to see your girlfriend, huh? don't worry, we won't tell her about your terrible snoring."
jungwon rolled his eyes, playfully swatting at sunghoon. "shut up, guys. i just want to see her before we head back to the dorms."
jake, sitting in the driver's seat, chuckled. "sure, sure. we all know you just can't bear to be away from her for too long."
the teasing continued throughout the ride, but jungwon took it all in stride, knowing it was all in good fun. deep down, he was grateful for his bandmates' camaraderie, even if it meant enduring a bit of ribbing along the way.
when he finally arrived at your apartment, he was greeted by the sound of music emanating from within. curiosity piqued, jungwon let himself in quietly, hoping to surprise you. however, what he saw stopped him in his tracks.
there you were, lost in the rhythm of enhypen's "future perfect," your movements clean and strong as you danced around the room. jungwon's eyes widened in astonishment. he had never seen this side of you before, so full of energy and passion.
careful not to disturb you, jungwon positioned himself out of sight, watching you with a mixture of awe and adoration. he couldn't tear his gaze away, captivated by the way you moved to the music, completely lost in the moment.
as the song came to an end, jungwon couldn't hold back any longer. stepping into view, he applauded softly, a warm smile spreading across his face as you turned to face him, cheeks flushed with exertion.
"wow," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "i had no idea you could dance like that."
you blinked in surprise, a bashful smile playing on your lips as you tried to catch your breath. "oh, jungwon, you're back already?" you exclaimed, a hint of embarrassment coloring your cheeks.
jungwon nodded, stepping closer. "yeah, i couldn't resist the chance to see you."
you chuckled, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest at his words. "well, i hope you weren't too bored watching me dance around like a fool."
"bored?" jungwon shook his head, his eyes sparkling with pride. "are you kidding? you were amazing. i had no idea you had such talent."
you blushed at his praise, feeling a surge of happiness at the thought of impressing him. "thank you, jungwon. that means a lot coming from you."
he grinned, his gaze never leaving yours. "you know," he said, his tone soft but earnest, "you could easily audition for hybe. with talent like yours, you could even work with me."
NI-KI 西村 力~
as riki trudged towards the dance practice room, he couldn't shake off the nervous excitement bubbling inside him. he had been told that he would be covering a new song, which meant he had to learn the choreography as well. it was a daunting task, but he was determined to give it his all.
as he pushed open the door to the practice room, he froze in his tracks, his eyes widening in disbelief. there you were, dancing with their usual choreographer, effortlessly gliding across the floor to the very song he was supposed to learn. riki couldn't believe his eyes as he watched you, his non-idol girlfriend, dominating the dance floor with such grace and precision.
he stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze away from you. you caught his eye in the reflection of the mirror and winked at him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you continued to dance. riki's heart swelled with pride and admiration for you, amazed by your talent and dedication.
by the time the song came to an end, riki couldn't contain his excitement any longer. he burst into applause, cheering loudly for you as you caught your breath, a bright smile lighting up your face.
"you were incredible!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine awe. "i had no idea you could dance like that!"
you laughed, a flush of pride coloring your cheeks as you walked over to him. "thanks, riki. i've been practicing a lot lately."
he grinned, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. "well, you were amazing. in fact, you were so good, you could practically steal my job as an idol!"
you laughed at his playful remark, feeling a sense of joy and warmth enveloping you as you held him close. in that moment, surrounded by the music and the love of your life, you knew that anything was possible.
#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen au#engene#enha#enhypen x reader#sunoo#kim sunoo#kim sunoo fluff#sunoo x reader#sunoo fluff#enhypen jungwon#ni ki#yang jungwon#jungwon#jungwon x reader#enhypen niki#jungwon imagines#ni ki enhypen#ni ki x reader#ni ki imagines#ni ki fluff#riki nishimura x reader#riki x reader#riki fluff#riki nishimura#riki enhypen#niki x reader#enhypen maknae line
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6. morning coffee
frankie morales x f!reader | chapter six of do me yourself
summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.
wordcount: 3.5k
chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a good dad.
an: if this was a sitcom episode, it would be called 'the morning after'
prev chapter | series masterlist
key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics
It’s hard not to smile when you open your eyes.
More so when you feel his breath on your neck, the scent of body wash you quickly remember him rubbing into your skin—the arm currently draped over your waist. The one keeping you firmly close, as though you would ever wish to be anywhere but here.
Seen, wanted and appreciated—even when he’s not entirely conscious.
The only reason you even contemplate moving from this—and the only real reason you’re awake—is that you’re desperate for the bathroom. It worsens the longer you lie there, thinking of it, the pressure on it from his forearm.
A quick glance at the clock on his bedside table tells you it’s far too early to disturb him. To wake him with a kiss and a whisper that you’ll be right back—especially when you think back to how late it was before the two of you finally whispered that you should sleep.
Even if you hadn’t wanted to.
Wanting instead to keep feeling his knuckles drag up and down your outer thigh and knee. The husk of his voice saying he should really flick the light off, even if he didn’t, instead letting you ask his favourite colour and him answering with a handful of shades you’d never remember.
Pick one, Francisco.
Mmm, not sure I can do that, baby. Too hard of a question.
Too hard to pick one thing?
Not when it’s the right thing.
Glancing over at him, fingers close to his, you swim for a moment in the memories of last night—the ache between your thighs a souvenir you can keep with you until it fades. Admiring the length of his lashes against his cheek, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips that you wish to kiss forever, as a thought—one strong and beating inside of you like your own heart—comes to you:
You don’t wish to trade this. Any of it.
Not just last night, but all of it—all of him.
But, you have to move. Even if your heart pleads with you not—eventually only doing so when your bladder twinges again in protest.
You find, slipping out from under his arm (all cautiously and carefully) is easy, until you glance back at his sleeping frame.
A calmness to him, a peacefulness. Chest and shoulder rising, face tilted ever so slightly into the plump pillow. It makes a pang of want thrum through you, one that doesn’t fade when you tiptoe back to the room and find him in a similar position.
Leaning on the wall, the one between his bedroom and en-suite, you flick your eyes to the half-open door. Spotting his bathrobe, fluffy and dark grey—flecks of white stitched in. Your throat suddenly scratchy, dry. Your body desperate for what usually fuels it when you’re up and about.
And you know you have to decide. Choose between attempting to slide back into bed or searching cupboards for coffee—both for you and him.
But you can’t stand there. Able to bet money that if he opened his eyes and found you staring, he’d one hundred per cent find it creepy.
You move when he sighs—further rolling into the space you had been moments ago. Smirking, you move, the decision made as you unhook the rope. Slowly sliding your arms into it until it’s draped over you and you’re welcomed by it: his scent.
That familiar one. The one which smells like pine cones, cedar wood and so much more. The one which had seeped into your clothes that first kiss close to your car.
And, thankfully, it only gets more intense as you step out into the hallway.
Brushing your hand over shelves as you pass, eyes lingering over the titles of books—ones about woodwork, decor and home. Fingers tracing the spines of them as you take in the photographs littered around.
Some are adorned with Luca, varying ages spanned across shelves. A tooth missing here, a gummy smile there. Some you assume are his family, and then a group of men, shirts off and standing in the middle of a dune—grinning, Frankie’s hair far shorter than it is now.
But, as you stare across his living area, you spot all the things you missed last night. The record player and the vinyls tucked on a higher shelf, placed beside crayon artwork framed in dark wood. There are mini-Lego figures in prime places, with wicker baskets containing multicoloured blocks and toys.
Then, there’s the closet near the kitchen you can’t remember from your tour—making a note to question him on later—before finally arriving at his kitchen.
And, fuck is it beautiful.
It’s all dimly lit by the early morning light flitting through the windows. Quiet, peaceful—save for the humming of the refrigerator and the distant chirping of birds outside. Like much of the place, the cupboards are dark, starkly contrasted by white-wash walls and pinned drawings on the fridge.
Centre-stage, and the thing you’re seeking, is his coffee machine. A sleek silver contraption that looks more complicated than you're used to. Shiny, remarkably clean.
Yet, you're determined.
Remembering his mention about his love of coffee and his preference for Cafe Bustelo. Trying to remember the rest, whether it was black drip, milk or no milk. Stroking a finger down the milk frother as you begin to piece it all together from fragments, hints he had dropped unknowingly.
Up until this point, you had found it difficult to find one thing about Frankie you didn’t like. Then you saw his kitchen layout.
Cupboard, after cupboard opened until you found the bright yellow bag. The smoky, rich smell wafting out as you tugged it close, all strong and inviting—it hooked a finger under your chin and coaxed you to spend several minutes fumbling with the machine.
Then, you hear the satisfying gurgle of brewing coffee.
Resisting the urge to break into a spontaneous dance, you opt instead to steal a momentary glance out the window. The world is stirring, its early morning canvas painted in delicate strokes of pink and orange, a serene backdrop as your gaze falls upon the garden. the worn slide of the wooden climbing frame, its sides adorned in an array of mismatched hues and haphazard brushstrokes. Your eyes begin tracing the trail of tiny handprints ascending one side, the lowest the smallest, increasing in size until halfway up. Then, at the top, larger prints that, just hours ago, you imagine were pressed against your own skin.
As a breeze blows through it, it swings multi-colour bulbs hanging, draped and swinging above. Letting your eyes sweep over the plants—the planters likely made by him, like you imagine much of the furniture outside is—suddenly spotting little figures buried into random bits of soil.
And it makes you smile, grin—full on fucking beam.
Only letting it flicker when you’re stirred by the beep of the coffee machine, pulls you from your reverie. Fingers returning to opening cupboards, seeking mugs, almost grumbling to yourself when you feel hands on your waist.
Ones that feel right, purposeful.
“Morning.”
It’s gravelly, coated in the morning—slowly closing the door before moving back into him, your back flush to his chest.
“Good morning, Butterscotch.”
Feeling him sigh, chin resting on your shoulder, you raise your fingers to brush against his cheek.
“You trying to bring me coffee in bed?”
Turning, you rotate in his arms. Eyes briefly catching the sight of him half-naked. Before taking a full on glance to spot him in a pair of sweats, ones that sit low on his hips. One of his hands crosses over the expanse of his waist, fingers scratching at his soft stomach while you look up to see his hair all at odd angles—curls slightly frizzed from being over-toyed and ragged.
“Well, I was trying too, but...”
“Machine confuse you?”
Narrowing your eyes, his hands coming around you, you smirk. “I will not confirm or deny.”
Running his hand across his chin, he looks over you before his lips twitch. “It was a gift—the machine.”
“From you to you?”
You watch as he sticks his tongue in his cheek, poking you lightly in your side. “The coffee place near work—it was being refurbed, I offered some thoughts as I was in there all the time, so they gave it to me.”
“Do you know how to use it?”
Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he shrugs. “Well, yeah.”
“Do you use all of its features?”
Swallowing, he sighs. “No.”
Sliding your fingers along his jaw, nose practically touching his, you find yourself unable to break his eyes. To not want to remain pressed against the counter in his kitchen, stood barefoot in his bathrobe, coffee scents filling the air.
“I bet you know exactly how to take it apart and put it back together.”
“Baby…”
“Bet you descale it regularly, when you’re supposed to.”
Groaning at the feel of your fingers in his hair, he buries his face into your neck. “Is that making you hot for me?”
“Oddly, yes.”
Snorting against your skin, he slowly lets out a slow exhale. “I hate that I have to open the shop.”
“What would your plans be if you didn’t have to?”
Smirking, he groans—low, barely reaching the surface, but it vibrates through you all the same. “I would for one have convinced you the bedroom was far more comfortable.”
“Hmm, tempting.”
Laughing, he pecks your lips, not moving from his place in front of you, even if his head moves back. “I like that you smell like me.”
“Territorial, noted.”
Turning, he points to the mugs, as you begin pouring the coffee—handing him one as his fingers brush yours.
“I just… I liked that you stayed.”
“Stayed or showered with you and let you see where soap suds go?”
Tilting his chin down, his eyes burn into your soul—all wide, brown, desperate to swallow you whole. “If I remember right, you were also seeing where soap suds go.”
Shrugging, you smirk against the mug, noting his finger resting on the knot of the belt—the one protecting your modesty. “Well, it would be rude to not watch the show.”
“A show? Glad I put on my best moves then,” he replies, voice all low, a hand coming to rest on the counter beside you.
You find it hard not to let your mouth become slack, breath hitching at the act.
“Glad it persuaded you to stay?”
Raising an eyebrow, you try to find something smart to say. Ticking. Whirring away. But then you see it.
Ever-present, hanging there—that worry in his eye. A look which half-pleads for you to pinch him and let him know it’s real. A thing you do as you clutch your coffee in one hand, avoid melting at his words and cup his cheek with the other.
The fabric of his robe-sleeve slides down and his breath flutters warmth against your wrist.
“You didn’t need to persuade me. I wanted to wake up in your arms…”
It’s smooth, the way one of his fingers undo the belt, body coming close as you place the mug down and feel his hands, all rough and worn, sliding over your hips. He's cautious to ensure his chest covers yours, as though attempting to keep you warm, concealed.
“—Plus, I really wanted to try your coffee. But, now I want to steal your coffee and bathrobe.”
His laughter trickles out and draws out against you. Frankie’s head shaking, wearing a large smile on his lips, “Well, I think I can come to some arrangement to let you.”
Sucking in a breath, finding his eyes locked on yours, you lean forward and kiss him. Gentle. Delicate. An assurance delivered softly as the coffee aroma continues to seep into your nose.
“I need to make you breakfast,” he whispers, mouth open, breathing the same air.
“Need, want or should?”
With a soft scoff, he leans in to capture your lips once more, whispering all three against you as his hand finds its way to the curve of your neck. Delicately tracing his fingertips over your jawline with a tantalising caress, you find yourself deepening the kiss, hungry for more. His grip on you tightens as you pull him closer, until there is no space left between you both. None that you want to be there. Desperate to be close, to have, to—
“‘m gonna make your breakfast now,” he says, voice close, pecking against your lips before his hands slide from your skin.
The loss is evident. Immediately missed.
Part of you longs to reach out, to draw him back until you feel him clutching the fabric together for you—a slightly lifted brow as you fumble for the belt, and he begins to pull things onto the counter.
Then, you watch him—tying his robe closed—half-in-awe of the meticulous way he moves around his space, grabbing things like he’s been thinking of what to make while you were busy rendered useless.
Eyes fixed on him so much, you see him pause—briefly. His gaze lingers on the coffee pot, glancing back, forcing you to laugh—a shake of your head.
"Thinking about how you’re going to miss this brilliant coffee, you know, since it’s mine now?" You quip, taking another sip of your coffee.
He turns, a pretend wounded expression on his face.
“I should confess that I’m not a nice person without my coffee," he replies, the twinkle in his eyes betraying his amusement.
With a smile gracing your lips, you ease back against his countertop, enjoying the comforting warmth of both the freshly brewed coffee and his presence.
The sunlight continues to filter in gently, casting a soft and golden glow across the room as you pause to drink in the sight before you. Him, cooking you breakfast.
A thing you thought you could have only thought up weeks ago. His curls tousled, a charming mess.
"Selfishly then, I'll let you keep the coffee," you finally concede.
Nodding, he closes his eyes in gratitude before there’s a twitch of his lips. “Because you like me?”
“Because I really like this bathrobe—the robe is a non-negotiable."
He laughs again, shaking his head in defeat. "Fair enough, it's a deal."
“Because I look so good in it?”
“Well," he says, scratching the back of his head. “I think you look good in everything.”
Harry okay?
Yeah, he rocked up ten minutes after you drove off, was able to pick Luca up at normal time.
That’s great! Did you boys have fun?
We did. He’s really into dinosaurs at the moment so I found this craft we could do where we make dinosaurs out of paper plates.
I like making things with him, plus it’s a nice gift for his mom when I drop him off tomorrow.
So handy and crafty?
Very crafty.
And very good with your hands.
You flirt.
You had a nice day?
I got some work done which I needed to get started, and I did some yoga.
Putting all sorts of images in my head.
Says you, talking about being crafty.
Bed feels weird without you here.
Imprinted on it that quickly?
Yeah. You’re the only one that’s been in it except me, and obviously Luca.
Shut up. I cannot be.
You are.
I don’t bring people back to my house.
Ever?
Never.
Never.
Never—
You don’t think.
Not of the time. That he could be tired. Or that his son is asleep in the next room.
Fingers sliding across the screen, finding his contact, and clicking. It's pressed to your ear before you consider whether this is a bad idea. Clutching it, holding it like a lifeline, knowing it's too late. Even if you end it, he'd know, see—
It barely rings.
Two at most, one and a half being a possibility.
And you sigh.
“Fancy hearing from you.”
Pulling your knees up, your bed groans at the sudden movement as you tug the duvet closer to your chin, cheeks rising with your lips. “You’ve really not had someone in your bed?”
It’s there, the sigh. Not full of annoyance, but more like he’s said too much.
“No… I’ve not had anyone else in it but you,” he admits quietly into the phone.
“Wow.”
“And Luca, of course. I always… you sure you want to hear this?”
There’s a softness in his voice that makes your heart flutter in your chest. An unexpected stroke of warmth through you at his question, at his consideration—prompting you to hug the duvet closer to yourself. A subtle smile dances across your lips as you let it wash over you.
“I want to hear whatever you want to tell me.”
Clearing his throat, you hear rustling, trying to half imagine if he’s turning over in bed, if he’s getting more comfortable—
“If I met someone, I didn’t… I only went to theirs.”
Biting your lip, you shift in your seated position, crossing your legs. “So, lunch and then theirs?”
“No lunch.”
“Coffee?”
Silence. Thick, ear-eroding silence. Before he breathes. “It would be a one-night thing and I wouldn’t stay.”
Oh. Your hand slides around your knee, trying not to grin too much. It's all far too easy to get ahead of yourself, to think too much. To run away and begin thinking this means more than it does. But, then—
“So, I’m…”
“Yeah.”
There’s more you want to ask, them sitting there, burning a hole in your tongue. Practically desperate to erode it, possibly poison it all—as questions sometimes do.
“And here I was thinking I was just another notch on your bedpost,” you tease, trying to keep your voice light, sweet.
He laughs then, a sound that makes you wish you were there with him, instead of miles apart in your own cold bed. “Not at all, baby.”
Toes twitching in your bed, you let out a breath. Sliding your legs out straight, slowly folding yourself down to the mattress, lying on one side as you hold the phone.
And you confess your own.
The reason you’re single, the reason you bought a house.
It rolls and falls, slipping with far too much ease into the air from your mouth. A burden-shifting, a weight from your shoulders lessening. The admission undoing the tightness around your chest as you continue to let the past be told in the present.
You don’t cry. Don’t even feel yourself well up. An improvement, a shift and change in you that you’re sure is brought on entirely by Frankie. On occasion, you hear movement from his side and the briefest whisper of your name. Not in pity—never in pity—just in understanding, in comfort.
“So, I’m the first—“
“Yes, Morales. You’re the first person to ask me out in a long time, big deal.”
“It feels like a big deal.”
Smirking, you twitch your toes. “In a few more dates I might confess that it is.”
“But not right now?”
Grinning, you bite your lip. “Feels like it would inflate your head, Francisco.”
More rustling comes down the phone before you hear a deep sigh. “Maybe. Are you in bed?”
“I am.”
You stare at the dark ceiling of your bedroom, a smile slowly spreading across your face.
“Is it weird to admit I miss you?”
“Not if it’s weird if I say I miss you too.”
You swear you hear him smile. That soft exhale he does dusts over your ear as he breathes your name, before adding, “I’m glad you called.”
“Me too.”
A comfortable silence flows out, spreading as you listen to him breathe.
“Want me to tell you my favourite dinosaur?”
You don't fight the laughter that rings out around your bedroom
Sunday tiptoes in with the slightest spring in its step.
With a gentle stretch, you reach for the familiar weight of your phone, heart already skipping ahead of your groggy mind.
There's a flutter of excitement, it mixing with a hint of nerves as you wonder if he's reached out yet. Because it's silly to be excited at the idea that he has, to be giddy at the thought of him thinking of you in this quiet morning hour.
It feels almost teenage-like.
But when your screen lights up you don't care what it is, because there’s little point fighting the grin. The pure eclipsing smile that smothers tiredness and makes your cheeks hurt instantly.
Enjoying my morning coffee feels different without a robe-wearing thief.
Rolling onto your front, the duvet sliding down your back, you dig your elbows into the mattress and run your tongue across your teeth.
Good morning to you too. If there’s coffee left, expect me in half an hour. Unless you fancy getting some with me?
Even if it feels like minutes, his reply arrives in seconds.
Instantly illuminating your phone against the backdrop of your pillow, prompting an involuntary smile to grace your lips.
Always. But I’m thinking brunch might be better?
Grinning, you fight a giggle. Teeth biting down on your lip as your thumbs type at record speed.
Can’t wear the bathrobe there.
No, not really. But, I’ll keep it safe, don’t worry.
Promise?
Pinky promise.
Brunch it is.
I'll pick you up.
NEXT CHAPTER ->
#frankie morales x reader#francisco morales x reader#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales x you#frankie morales#triple frontier x reader#francisco morales fanfiction#triple frontier fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#francisco catfish morales x reader#catfish morales x reader#pedrostories#jo: dmy#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal character fanfiction
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YOU CANT JUST LEAVE US HEARTBROKEN LIKE THAT 😭😭😭😭😭
HOW DO THEY MAKE UP??!!!!!
he better does grand gesture, and apologizes the right way!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭

Ngl, I'm so nervous about this. 🫣. Hope you like ~
Pt. 3
Miguel remained glued to the door where you just left. It wasn't the raucous door slam he had expected. Dread sit on his gut at the quietness of your departure.
You weren't one for boasting up or make a show out of the situations, but you had your temper and seeing this quiet yet nerve wrecking side of you only enervated his anger. Froze it completely, leaving him with a whirlwind of emotions that mutinied in his head to be felt first.
Self loathe and guiltiness the main contenders.
His arms rested on his chest, crossed. Defensive as the creaking door from Gabriel's room opened wider.
"Miguel?"
Gabriel's voice echoed so distant in his head, despite his younger brother being a few steps away from him. A raging stupor spreaded through his limbs.
"You ok?" Gabriel tried even though he already knew the answer. He just gave a silent nod and Gabriel didn't pry further. He'd try later.
----
One week. It had been one week since you had crossed that door and vanished from his life. His mind was a corded mess of over thinking, intrusive thoughts and of course, you.
No matter how much he tried to overwork himself back in the lab, his mind often gravitated towards you.
What would you been doing? We're you doing the same as he was? No. You were probably crying and letting it all out. Something he was still working on his own. Of course you'd recommend therapy, but again, pride and fear always came his way. He was doing fine, wasn't he?
Bullshit.
Lying to himself was another thing he had perfected to a T. And it was low key terrifying for him for you to see underneath the layers (he had made sure to build sturdier), with such ease after a couple of months into the relationship with you.
But there he was, tired bones, body and soul aching from the lack of sleep. His stomach churned at the little food he consumed, the rest was coffee, to try and keep himself awake.
Cause after trying to call you next day, the only reply he got was the automated announcement of the operator.
The number you're trying to reach is no longer available or is out of reach, please contact your-
And the message kept replaying over and over. His texts didn't go through. And it didn't help that Peter arrived with the box full of his stuffs you had kept.
Peter's words fell upon deaf ears.
Peter always knew how to give him his space, but wouldn't hesitate to step up, even if it meant to be called nosy and annoying by him later. He knew he meant good. But he wasn't ready to fully grasp the fact that you had left. All thanks to him and his insecurities, something you had embraced and loved without restrains.
You loved him.
His chest constricted at the raw memory of you saying that. And tightened even more upon laying down and feel your empty space in his bed. The pillow was still deflated in the shape you had left it that fateful morning. He didn't puffed it up, fearing that the little scent of you etched to it would fade forever.
He'd fall sleep watching that small space, hoping to feel you in the morning, snuggled next to him, with your head nested on the crook of his neck, holding him like a tiny marsupial that refused to be separated from it's tree.
It was when he slept the most. Soundly and comfortable. But now, only bad dreams came for a visit.
There was no good morning kisses, no bantering for whose turn was to make the breakfast and coffee. No morning sex that probably made Gabriel uncomfortable, but the younger O'Hara was too into his business and polite to say anything. No more corny movie nights he indulged with you just for the sake of hearing you laugh at the terrible acting and cringe dialogues.
No more of your hands playing and caressing his hair just cause you wanted so, no more excited bear hugs everytime you saw him. No more of your comforting touch and words whenever he had a bad dream. No more you praising him. No more you.
Gabriel had tried to distract him, but the effort only lasted for so little that he went back to his silent mourning.
He missed it all. Missed you.
---
Gabriel let Peter and Jess in, Peter's muffled voice trying to appease a caustic Jessica whose eyes settled on a surprised Miguel on the kitchen, drinking his fifth cup of coffee.
Peter gave him an awkward smile as he followed Jessica.
"You look terrible."
Despite her anger, Jessica only pointed at his unkempt and disheveled looks.
His stubble had grown, the eyebags underneath his lower lids more prominent, bloodshot eyes that were set in a void and solemn gaze, skin ashy from the lack of sun.
"Miguel" Peter started with a sigh, "You're clearly not fine. "
He grunted and sipped the bitter coffee.
"Look, this is not our business, but we're here as your friends."
Jessica saying your name and how you were doing made his grip on the mug tighter.
"I just... don't understand. You out of everyone know the relationship with her family. Yet you accused of being like them."
"I did not"
Miguel rubbed his face and sighed. Already feeling the emotional toll he had been neglecting for the past week.
"Are you calling my friend a liar, then? She came to me, weeping, with a hecking anxiety attack saying you didn't love her anymore."
"That's.... Not true."
The constricting feeling came harder than ever upon hearing Jess' words. How could you even think that he didn't love you? He did. More than he let on. But pride was surely costing him big time.
"Then own your mistakes."
Miguel's eyes casted away from the both. Peter rubbed his neck and sighed.
"Look, Mig. We're not telling you what to do here. But I can't stand see you like this. Not when you know you can do the right thing."
"It's not that easy"
"It was easy for you to judge her-"
"Jessica"
Peter frowned and Jessica glared
"It was easy for you to say such things to her, but it's hard to apologize?"
"Exactly. You think I don't know I fucked up? I know I have to make things right-"
"Then do it!. And take a bath, I can smell you from here."
Miguel half scowled half pouted at her words. Peter just patted his shoulder softly before leaving.
-----
His first attempt at apologizing failed. He had sent flowers to your job, only for the delivery man to tell him that you had returned them, along with the box of chocolates you've always wanted to try.
He wanted to taste the waters before actually step in. And so far they'd drown him if he ventured deep enough.
But he was fighting against the tide.
---
The cold rain had soaked him, ruined the flowers and his hairstyle. He wanted to make things right, but knew that couldn't do it looking like shit. He had taken the time in getting ready. Black pants and shoes, a deep green button shirt, one that you had picked for him and praised him nonstop about it in one of your shopping outings.
Necklace in one of his pockets, flowers in one hand and his heart on the other.
Gabriel just teased him with a smile before he left. Glad that his brother seemed with a spark again.
But the rain, had ruined his plans. And now he was soaked, hair a wet wavy mess, shivering with a single tulip in his hands, all before your apartment's door.
He'd know you'd be home, it was your resting day. Taking a deep breath and swallowing back the anxiety gnawing at his head and heart, he rang the doorbell.
Small taps of your fuzzy slippers echoed closer and closer, your voice soft and serene. The same way you'd talk to him when he was grumpy or in a bad mood.
Who were you talking to?
The thought of you moving on so fast crossed his mind but instantly was fulminated. You weren't like that. You still loved him.
Right?
His breath hitched once your door swung partially open, revealing you. A messy bun ontop your head, phone on hands, puffed eyes that were red from previous crying, a sweater double your size and comfy pj pants.
"I-I'll call you later. Hm. Bye" You sniffled and hung up the call.
You closed the door on his face and he stilled for a moment, the shuffling of your locks finally turned to swung open the door completely. He swallowed thickly
Mahogany eyes locked in yours, you frowned and he sighed.
"May I... Come in?"
Miguel sighed and offered you the lone and wet white tulip. Your favorite, as a peace offer.
"Please?"
Despite the inner turmoil in your heart, you stepped aside and let him in.
Baby steps.
He swallowed as he ventured deeper in your home. It had changed little to nothing. Just like you. The only visible change in your factions was the restless look he shared with you.
You went to the bathroom and brought him a towel. He didn't know how would you react if he just pulled you closer and held you tightly.
He just took the towel instead, brushing cold fingers against warm ones. His body almost sung in delight at the little feeling of you again.
But he knew he had lost the right to your physical affection. To your attention, and the fact that you had received him and still looked after him in the admist of his wrongdoings, humbled him.
You went to the kitchen and put the kettle to boil. He was on the edge as he removed his shirt and wet clothes.
"W-What are you..." You looked at him in mild alarm as he wrapped the towel around his waist. The storm kept raging outside, thunders only enhancing the heavy atmosphere that settled between you both.
"Relax, don't wanna catch a cold."
His skin full of goosebumps, probably cold by the unforgiving rain. You went back to the living room and fetched the blanket you were using.
"Here."
You only watched him, but he refused to meet your gaze just yet.
"Im sorry."
He blurted and his eyes softened at you bracing yourself.
"I fucked up, didn't I?."
"Big time."
He nodded and wrapped himself the blanket on his shoulders. Being both emotionally and physically naked before you wasn't something he had planned on. But it was one of the least of his concerns.
You had put the tulip in a small vase and soon poured two mugs of hot cinnamon and milk tea, a drinking habit he had rubbed on you.
You sat on the couch, he followed.
"I know you don't want me here but, I really need to make this right. If... you don't want to continue this, I'll understand. I'll respect whatever choice you make."
"I just don't know if I can trust you, Miguel."
A stab on his chest. A well deserved one. He nodded.
"Is there anything I can do to fix that? Can I still fix it? "
You sighed softly and shook your head, "I don't know. I want to believe you, believe that something like that won't ever happen again."
You squeezed the mug in your hands
"You have no idea how... your words hurt. Even worse when you looked at me with such anger and disgust. It felt like my family looking at me when I left them."
Your voice cracked and he tensed, but slowly reached for your hand. Relief washing over him as you didn't recoil from his touch this time. The tea long forgotten.
"Te prometo, que nunca volverá a pasar. Y sabes que soy un hombre de palabra. I know what I said is unjustifiable, But I can't stand this... space between us" (I promise this won't happen again. You know I'm a man of word)
You knew he wasn't good with feelings, that he sometimes needed a reminder to look for help, the way he breathed as he spoke the last two words made you smile a little. He was trying.
"I know" You sniffled and wiped your eyes.
"Do you... want me to stay away until you feel ready to try it again?"
A vehement shake of your head.
"I need to get it out cause... I don't know if I can't keep bottling up these things anymore. I'm not... sweeping my feelings under the rug anymore. I'm tired of that."
"That's... something I need to keep working on"
His hand slicked his front bangs away from his face.
"It's something I've always admired from you, mi niña." His hands grabbed yours once more, relishing in the warmth and grounding feeling your body provided him, "You've... always made it look easier. I tried to learn but... I guess it doesn't works like that."
"It takes time. And willingness to share. I could teach you."
"Have you... ever felt like I'm not willing to share things or that I'm too closed off with you?"
"Yes. I feel like mostly of the times I need to take initiative for you to do things with me. That's why I said you didn't want me"
He rubbed his face as his chest constricted, just like his throat.
"I know, sometimes I'm an ass"
"Un pendejo, de hecho" (A dumbass, actually)
He chuckled and nodded as he entwined his hand with yours.
"And I'm sorry if I ever took you for granted. I'm sorry for... the many things I should've done better but I didn't cause I knew you'd stay with me anyways. And... I'll forever regret that it came to this point for me to realize that"
He cradled you close and held you with such gentleness it made your heart thump in relief. One of his arms went around your waist as his other hand caressed your hair.
Miguel was now resting on the armchair of your couch, you lying ontop of him. He didn't need the blanket anymore. His hands were too fearful of you slipping away from him.
"Have you ever felt judged by me?" Your voice soft, and melodic, music to his anxious heart.
He shook his head and pressed a firm kiss on your temple. You closed your eyes, melting into the caresses he gave as his hands roamed gently your back, saying 'She's here. She's real. She's mine again'
"All the opposite. You really felt that I didn't love you?"
"That and that you didn't want me anymore"
He sighed and cupped your face to give you a tiny and gentle kiss as he squeezed you against him.
"Mensa." (Dummy)
Your hand reached up to pull a strand of his hair as a little vendetta and he chuckled.
" Te voy a demostrar que te amo" (I'll prove my love for you)
"Can't wait" There was a little flush on your cheeks. You knew that his heartfelt and most sincere words came better in spanish.
There was a silent moment, the drip drops of the rain against your window were the perfect lullaby for you to close your eyes.
Tonight you'd sleep soundly, so would he. His hand on your hair trembled. These forms of intimacy always made him marvel at how easy was to keep you and himself happy.
"I've missed you." He whispered only for you. Your heart frisked in contempt, cause only you could make him say such words.
"I've missed you too"
He caressed your cheek once more and smiled gently.
"Are we good?"
"We're working on it"
The heavy and unpleasant feeling slowly melting off from him. He smiled as he secured you in his arms.
---
The dim lit room soon made him to yawn, awakening in a different place. A soft startle, but feeling his arms occupied with you, snuggled against him, face hidden in the crook of his shoulder, deeply asleep.
His arms couldn't get enough of feeling your skin. Feeling you, to make sure his mind wasn't hallucinating. You had given him another chance and he was ready to prove himself worthy of you.
His soft kisses on your hair stirred you awake as you hooked a leg on his waist, But when he mimicked you, his whole frame engulfed you, earning a little squeal.
He smiled as he kept crushing you.
"Miguel!" You whimpered and he let you go. Everything felt like before. Like it should.
"Want some breakfast? "
He whispered as he curled on you. you'd gladly make the big spoon if needed, strong hands cradling you closer as you nodded
"Later though, Let's stay five more minutes." You kissed his forehead in exchange.
Yeah, everything was as it should. His world was spinning again and you in the middle of it. His own moon and stars.
"Pitufina?"
You grunted at the nickname.
"¿Me amas?" (Do you love me?)
"Y mucho." ( A lot)
You mumbled in between sleepy whispers. the golden necklace once more around your neck.
"Do you?"
He grope you tighter at the question.
"More than I thought possible."
------
Taglist:
@kinkybandages
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#atsv miguel#soccer family ⚽🕷️#Pre Soccer Family ⚽🕷️#Reconciliation#t writes✨#miguel o'hara fluff#miguel o'hara angst
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volleyball player bf!suguru never lets you drive anywhere. ever.
the silver volleyball charm clinks against the rest of the items swinging tauntingly above your head. it was the charm you bought him while your family was off on vacation, and now you were silently cursing the recipient's stubbornness.
"give me the fucking- what the hell are you doing?" curse him and his unnaturally long limbs. you jab a finger at his torso, colliding with immovable ab muscle; he doesn't even flinch, continuing to hold the keys just out of reach. your arm swings hopelessly back and forth, trying to hook a finger onto the keyring. it'd been about six minutes, you guessed, since you were supposed to leave with suguru to meet satoru and shoko at the restaurant. you could already imagine the melodrama of having satoru be the one to ask for a table for four. "babe, please give me the-"
"nope. get in," he states evenly with the slightest raise of his eyebrows. with one hand, he dangles the keys and opens the passenger side door with the other.
"we're gonna be late."
"you better get your sexy ass in the car, then, my distinguished president." he tries to keep his voice stoic and fails miserably, a smirk sneaking its way onto his face. "i'm driving."
"i said i would drive."
"and who's holding the keys?" you roll your eyes and poke his side again, but his resolve is unwavering. his head tilts toward the open side door again. "c'mon, we gotta go."
"you really don't need to do all of this anymore," you concede before stepping into the vehicle.
"yeah, but i still want to," he replies before shutting the door. his pretty mouth quirks in satisfaction and he arrogantly spins the keys on his finger while he walks around the front of the car, sliding into the driver's seat next to you. his bicep flexes next to your ear as he backs out of the driveway of your apartment complex. when he's on the road, his hand finds your thigh and unconsciously rubs circles on your skin with his thumb. despite the affection, your irritation is obvious.
"you mad at me?"
"not mad," you mutter, "just annoyed."
"that i'm driving?"
"that you insist on driving even though i got my license months ago. it's like... you don't trust me." you shrug and stare back out at the blurry cityscape passing by. he exhales deeply and you hear the tiniest "shit" from beside you. his hand leaves your thigh to drag it over his face guiltily before returning to the wheel.
"you know why i insist on driving you everywhere, right?" you nod. even before he officially became your boyfriend, suguru was asking if you needed a ride to a conference or event after just knowing you for a few weeks. he's always on time, always meets you at the door, always waits on your bedroom floor if you're still getting ready. watching you prepare for a date, he said, was one of his favorite things in the world.
"because you're used to it." your face starts to burn in shame, embarrassment rising at the memory of everyone around you having their license while you just kept failing over and over and over. it was even harder and took much longer to explain why you didn't like driving in the first place, how being behind the wheel was a level of responsibility you still weren't sure how to handle. how pathetic, being the administrative head of all the student activities in your school and yet you still needed your parents to give you a ride. it was the biggest weight on your shoulders, feeling like a burden to everybody else, but suguru was adamant that he didn't mind.
"because i want to do it. i never wanna have you worrying about needing a ride or driving somewhere ever again." his eyes shine in the fading afternoon sun, soft and tender as his voice. "you're too incredible to be worrying about shit like that, so let me take care of it. let me take care of you."
"i love you...more than anything."
"i love you too, babe."
"even though you cart me around everywhere?"
"especially because you let me cart you around everywhere," he winks. i'm gonna marry you someday, geto suguru. "can you let satoru know we're almost there and for him to grab a table if he hasn't already?" you chuckle at his earnestness and he raises an eyebrow in question.
"you have too much faith in him, su." his mouth falls open in exasperation and you have to push his face back to focus on the road.
"he hasn't left yet? we said 6:00!" he huffs, blowing a strand of hair from his forehead only for it to fall back into place. your fingers gently brush it away and tuck it behind his ear.
"he runs on satoru time, what do you expect?"
"whoever let him get behind a wheel needs their sanity checked," he concludes as he pulls into a spot and you're trying to stifle your giggles. "whatever," he sighs in defeat.
"it's okay. just gives you more time to keep showing how much you love me."
driving people is a love language, argue with the wall but anyway hope you enjoyed
likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3
#suguru x you#suguru x y/n#suguru x reader#geto x you#geto x y/n#geto x reader#suguru geto x you#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto x y/n#suguru geto#jjk volleyball au#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk imagines#jjk fluff
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Here for the angst of neglected batsis, imagine or hc them of moving out if the house when they are 18 and let's say they meet some spirit and they have their memory wiped and transfer to the marvel universe to restart their life and more happy, then the dc/marvel merge together because of a big threat and batfam sees batsis is heavily pregnant and married to our favorite deadpool charater Colossus?
How would they reached if batsis just can't remember them and keeps on telling them they have the wrong person?
I LIKE THE WAY YOU THINK. Guess who's back!! Sorry it took me so long to get this out, I haven't had the motivation to write until recently. Also OOC warning bc I don't really know him well besides the Deadpool movies. I almost freaked out bc I haven't used the tumblr website in so long and it got updated so I thought I lost all my drafts. So glad they're still here, whew. Not beta read so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes!
---
It's been a year since moving into your apartment and you couldn't be happier. College was going well and you were taking classes you enjoyed. However, you haven't made any friends yet which led you to spend your free time reading or surfing the web. Jason didn't come by much due to having his own life and vigilante things, which you understood. It didn't mean you couldn't be a little bit sad about it though.
Even though you were enjoying your life, you still felt as if there was something missing. You'd been trying to figure out why you had felt this way but nothing came to mind. Any time you tried to brush off the feeling, it came back stronger. You did your best to ignore it and continue on with life, but it was always there, nagging you.
It had been a long day. College was so stressful. Your professors kept hurling projects at you that had deadlines that were practically impossible to meet. You just wanted it to end already and be on summer break. Then, you’d be able to sleep how long you wanted to without the fear of being late for class or forgetting to complete an assignment.
You sat down at your desk and pulled out your laptop, preparing to continue an essay that was due in three days. Suddenly, you began to feel nauseous. Confused, you attempted to ignore the feeling in favor of completing the essay. A few seconds after trying to focus on your laptop screen, you saw a bright light.
"My child, you will be saved from this life." A strangely comforting voice said.
Then everything faded to black.
---
"Hello?!"
A voice. A voice? But you live alone and no one has the spare key to your apartment. You slowly opened your eyes, groaning and quickly shutting them again once a bright light blinded you.
"Oh you're alive, thank God. Can you speak?" Whoever this was seemed to have been panicking before, slightly less though now that you had indicated you were alive. You groan as you push yourself up off of what seems to be concrete. Concrete? You're definitely not in your apartment. You crack your eyes open again, this time with less difficulty, and come face to face with white lenses of a mask. Blinking again, you register that the lenses are attached to a red material with black lines.
"Ah!"
"AH!" The figure yells and jumps back, startled by your sudden surprise.
"What the hell are you supposed to be?" You asked, tilting your head slightly to the side.
"What do you mean? I'm Spiderman." His voice was a bit high pitched, he sounded like a teen at most.
"Spiderman? You've got to be joking. There is no Spiderman. Go home kid, crime fighting isn't a game." Sure, you may be a hypocrite, seeing as you are an ex-assassin who began learning how to kill at around 5, but at least you had training. What did this Spiderman have? From how startled he was, you assumed he had barely been trained, if at all.
“What? I'm literally Spiderman! I'm Queens' hero!"
"Queens, New York?" You thought you'd still be in New Jersey at least.
"Uh yeah. I don't think there are any other places called Queens that have a Spiderman."
"Again, Spiderman? Seriously? You couldn't think of a better name at least?"
"Hey! There's nothing wrong with Spiderman!"
"Sure kid, keep telling yourself that."
He was about to protest when suddenly, someone else dropped into the alley.
"Hey Spidey, who's this lovely lady?" A person in an all red with black suit with two swords on his back and guns strapped to his waist called out. The person seemed to be a male, around 30 years old.
"This 'lovely lady' is very confused. Who are you?" They keep multiplying, and you'd never seen this person either.
"Did you hit your head or something? You've never heard of or seen Deadpool? The most handsomest, most awesomest, funniest, killer crime fighter?"
"Uh nope. Also, I'm from Jersey, how did I end up here?"
"Good question. What's your name?"
"Oh, it's-" You stopped in confusion. "I actually don't remember. It was just at the tip of my tongue but I don't remember."
"Oh great! Amnesia! Just what we need. I'll let you handle her Spidey and I'll go stop some bad guys, 'kay?"
"What! No, don't leave me here!" Deadpool was already sprinting away.
"Let's get you to the base. Colossus and the others will know what to do."
---
They did not, in fact, know what to do. Colossus sent Negasonic and Yukio to contact Professor X, while Spiderman went to contact Tony Stark (I'm still emotionally scarred from Endgame so no, he won't be dead, this is my fanfic and I can keep him alive if I want to) and Deadpool went back out to patrol. You were left alone with Colossus.
Uncomfortable silence sat between you. Just as you were beginning to get antsy, Colossus broke it first.
"Do you remember anything at all?"
"I'm... a college student. I live alone in an apartment in New Jersey, I think. I used to fight crime until... I don't know, it's fuzzy. I'm an ex-assassin who has been training since I was 5. That's all I remember."
"You can remember that but not your name?"
"Look, I don't know okay? I don't know what's happening or why I can't remember anything else. I want to remember who I am, but I can't. And it's so... so frustrating! Your suspicion is understandable, but it is not helping."
"I apologize. This is a stressful situation for you. I will be more considerate."
"Thank you."
---
They could not figure out what happened to you or why you suddenly appeared in Queens one day. Your memory remained fuzzy, so you were stuck. As time passed, you and Colossus grew closer. You became so close that he told you his real name, you became a couple, and you got married. Seven years passed, you were 25 and you'd been trying for a baby. You both felt the time was right and that you'd be able to handle parenting.
Colossus came home from work one day, spent and tired. There you were, waiting for him at the door as usual.
"Hi my love, long day?" You fiddled with the positive pregnancy test behind your back.
"Yes darling, when is it not?"
"Well, we're going to have to figure something out, because there's no way I'll wake up every night to take care of our baby."
He looked confused, then realization hit. "You're..?" He looked so happy and hopeful, you couldn't contain your happiness. A huge smile lit up your face.
"Yes, we're finally going to be parents!" You pulled out the pregnancy test and held it up to him.
He laughed a joyful laugh, tears began to fall from the corners of his eyes as he embraced you. It must've been infectious because you began to tear up too. You remained in each other's embrace for a while, just existing in the moment. Time felt irrelevant as you basked in your shared delight.
---
8 months later, your belly had swollen and grown. Everyone was happy for the both of you. You and Colossus were both eager for your little one to arrive. You'd both decided to wait for birth to find out the gender. It didn't matter to you whether it was a boy or girl, just that they were healthy (gender's a construct anyway). The pregnancy had been going great so far, but this time of easy-going was about to get ruined by your husband's job.
---
Your world had merged with another because of some cosmic threat. Great! Your husband would be preoccupied trying to fix the situation, which meant that you'd be alone. Selfishly, you wished that they could let your husband stay with you so close to your due date, but you knew he had a role to play in saving two worlds.
Seeing your loneliness, Colossus decided to bring you with him to the Avengers' base. He hoped you'd be able to befriend some of the people there. You entered the compound and your eyes were drawn to some men standing beside a set of double doors. They all had suits on, black hair (one guy had two white streaks in his hair) and most had blue eyes, except for one man who had green eyes. He was also noticeably the darkest of the group. They felt familiar to you, especially the man with green eyes. Have you met them before? Who were they?
As your husband was discussing some details about the meeting, you couldn't help but watch the group of men. Not knowing why you thought you knew them annoyed you. As if they could feel your eyes on them (they could), they turned around in sync and locked eyes with you.
Their eyes widened and they all exclaimed your name in various degrees of disbelief. They rushed over to you and your husband protectively stepped in front of you
"How do you know my wife?"
"Wife?!" Some of them shouted. They were beginning to cause a scene.
"You're pregnant." The one with green eyes observed. He seemed to be having some sort of crisis.
All their eyes darted to your belly, making you uncomfortable. You placed your hand over your stomach and attempted to discretely hide behind your husband. This did not go unnoticed by them.
"You don't remember us?" The shortest of them questioned.
"No, I've never met you guys." You were very confused.
The man who appeared to be the oldest said your name. You stared at him as he studied your eyes, presumably to see if you were lying. It made you feel vulnerable and unsettled, couldn't they leave you alone?
"We're your family."
The guy with the white streaks in his hair scoffed. "You didn't treat her like she was family. I was the only one who cared for her when she was younger while you all ignored her and let her suffer. I'm glad she doesn't remember what you all did to her. She's clearly living a much better life without you lot in it."
This was getting more confusing by the second, although you felt there was truth to his words. Did you forget these people? They seemed very convincing if they were lying.
"I'm sorry but I really don't remember you guys. Maybe you have the wrong person?"
"No we don't! You disappeared one day and now that we've finally found you, you're saying you forgot everything!"
"That is enough. Please leave my wife alone, she does not know you, and she does not need the unnecessary stress of trying to remember people she's never met. Do not approach her anymore." Colossus guided you away from the men, who stared longingly at you. The heartbroken expressions they had after your husband's speech would follow you often. Were you sure you'd never met them before?
---
Words: 1,847
#batfamily#batfam#batfam x reader#dick grayson#bruce wayne#jason todd#avengers x platonic reader#colossus#colossus x reader#tim drake#damian wayne#batfam x neglected!batsis!reader
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Platonic!Yan batfam with young adult reader. Part 4
[Part 3]
Note: Reader is 18-22 years old. Gn reader
Content warning: being treated like a child, being looked down on, stalking, obsessions, soft yandere but still a yandere, reader has memory issues and it's ambiguous as to why, delusional batfam, batfam as a whole basically view you as a child younger then Damien despite you being older, reader is questioned by police, reader witnessed a crime, reader tried to be a hero, violence, blood, mentions of death, dissociation, abduction
Focus Dick (Nightwing)
------
Life moved on after the incident with Redhood. He'd left early that morning leaving a note saying, 'See you soon Sparky -RH'. You didn't care to think of what the note could mean. So you burried the strange sense of foreboding that clawed in your mind at the note. Maybe the Gotham paranoia had gotten to you?
Either way, things in the next few days were normal...as normal as Gotham could be. The bat clan had put most of the heavy rollers back in Arkham at a record speed. No one knew if it was just the rogues being sloppy, or the bats were feeling a tad extra feral. You remembered when you first learned about Batman and his underlings; the idea of the police having feral furry themed vigilantes was funny. You'd thought your new neighbor was joking. But no, it was true, and after your personal run-ins with Robin and Redhood, you could confidently claim the group was feral and would punch God..any God really... given the chance. Which was what Gotham needed to be blunt.
It was nice though that you got out of the heart of Gotham sometimes. So you'd taken a day off to go to Bludhaven. It wasn't better than Gotham, but it was a change of place. The fact that a comic store was having a closing door sale was totally *not* the reason. It was.. but you were hoping to get something cool for cheap! Nerd stuff was expensive, and as a nerd, you knew that well.
The quest for a trinket wasn't supposed to end with you being brought into the local police station for questioning. You weren't part of a crime no, but you were a witness, *the* witness. A mugging gone wrong. Honestly the details were fuzzy, yet at the same time, key parts you couldn't forget. The feeling of the woman's heart fading as you held pressure on the stab wound. The wheeze in her voice as she struggled to breathe and tell you her final words. The way your body trembled as the paramedics arrived and carted her away to a hospital. The sensation of blood on your hands and skin, and the smell...
"You okay?" The police officer's voice pulled you from the spiral of your thoughts.
"I'm sorry what?" You were in a haze, shock most likely.
"I asked if you would be okay answering a few more questions. Detective Grayson just got here and wants to ask a few."
"Oh sure yeah..." the voice, no your voice spoke, but it didn't feel like you.
Dick Grayson walked into the room the officers had put you in. You weren't in trouble. A nearby camera had seen it all go down, but you were a vital witness, one who was clearly not well after what you saw. Dick didn't blame you for your state either. He...he should have been there. When Bruce had called telling him you were in Bludhaven, he was ecstatic to think he could meet you. He'd been planning a nice little meet cute styled thing to bridge a gap from a stranger to you to being besties. He was your eldest brother, the one you'd be able to rely on most. You'd love everyone in the family but you'd come to him first for everything. He could so easily picture it. The two of you staying up late, watching films and you opening up to him and feeling safe in his company. The inside jokes you'd have together, you'd both be thicker than thieves.
So seeing you as you were now was a reminder of just how fragile you were. You were in shock a really bad case of it too. Your eyes were distant as you struggled to answer the basic questions. You were shaking. You still had the victim's blood on your shirt too. He should have been there. Any of them should have, but you were in *his* turf so it should have been him. He should have gotten there before you had to see it. You shouldn't have had to apply pressure to a wound like that.
Your voice was hollow, he'd seen videos of you. Hollow is never something he could have pictured you as. You had so much life to you. Yet here you were in this state because of *his* failures; as Nightwing, a detective, and a big brother. What if it had been you? You would have died on his watch in his turf. He couldn't handle that right now.
He got the answers he could from you, then easily guided you out. He told his fellow workers he was taking you home. No one questioned it, Dick was a good guy and not the type to let a traumatized witness go home alone.
You didn't question him as he ushered you to his car, or where he was taking you when you hadn't told him where you lived. He wasn't sure you could do that right now. He wasn't lying saying he was taking you home... it just wasn't the home you'd have expected if you were more here. The room in the manor wasn't perfect, but you'd be safe there.
He brought you inside, and the family members at home seethed at him. He couldn't blame them, this was his fault. Cass took you with help from Alfred to get you cleaned up and put you to bed. His heart broke seeing how you just went with everything. Like you were aware enough to function on a base level and orders, but mentally? You were gone. Pulled into yourself, protecting yourself from the trauma that he'd caused. He should have been there.
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hiyaaa I love the Colby fic and I was wondering if you could do a short one of like y/n gong through a break up but she doesn't tell him or sam (and could Kat be in it- they're all roomates sorta thing) and she doesn't rlly come out her room and they get worried until Colby goes up and she breaks and he comforts her- like fluffy stuff plz
omg yes this sounds so cutie so ofcc!!! I don't know if its great as I'm very tired but I hope you guys enjoy, It feels good to be writing for someone new but I do still love Tokio Hotel
!! I did a very quick proof read but if I missed anything sorry !!
Broken Heart
･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
warnings- ColbyBrockxFem/Reader, swearing, fluff, comfort, best friends, care, reader is cheated on
words- 1.7k
Y/n's POV
"I don't understand why you're so angry Y/n?" Justin looked to me, my eyes narrowed "she was just a fri-"
"Shut the fuck up! you keep saying she was a friend but friends don't fuck each other" I screamed- it was killing me, my boyfriend of 6 years cheating on me with his 'friend', his friend who is his phone had hearts next to her name, every message had a 'xxx' at the end, winky faces and peaches shared until one day...today, I go to his apartment 5 minuets from mine to see him in bed, his hands laying on the red-heads hips
"I-it's just a miss understanding Y/n please!" he begged but I couldn't forgive him- not for this "look let me apologise and we can re-start"
"yeah after 6 whole years? good idea Justin let me just forget everything huh?" I yelled, his eyes dropped he knew I wasn't going to take it "just leave"
"no- Y/n I can make it up to you" he pleaded again and again, hands reaching for mine but I pulled away, backing from him
"get the fuck out of my house Justin" my voice was low "go through the fucking door and don't come back- get out" I watched him give me one more look and he left, leaving me with the haunting memories of him with someone else, those 6 years down the drain. The pain settled in quicker then expected, my chest heaved up and down as I sobbed into my pillow as I stared into the images of me and him dotted around my room, the light from the day slowly faded leaving me in darkness, only figures in my room kept me company, my face ached, my whole body did, especially my head so I decided to sleep, sleep would keep me safe, sleep was quiet, sleep was calm.
Kat's POV
Me, Sam and Colby walked into the house, it was silent, no music or tv playing which was unusual if Y/n and Justin were in "think they went out or something I mean its 9- might be like their date night?" Sam spoke putting his keys onto the kitchen island
"Maybe... I'll check up stairs" I smiled quickly leaving the two to find Y/n, I got to her door and pushed it open to see her room pitch black, not any of her candles lit, or lamp on "Y/n?" I whispered and a body shifted under the covers "Y/n, you okay?" I spoke coming in a little more to her room
"fine, just tired" she hummed turning over facing away from me in the doorway
"oh okay- where's Justin?" I asked, most days he's in the house, I mean he was meant to move in with us in a few weeks
"I dunno" she answered in a yawn, I oh'ed, the mood didn't feel right but I decided to leave her in peace, I closed the door and made my way into mine and Sam's room, he was sat on the bed flicking through his phone until he saw me walk in
"she okay?" he asked
"think so- said she is and she's tired" he nodded looking back to his phone "Justin isn't here though" his gaze flicked back up to which I just nodded
"he basically lives here, why wouldn't he be here? and its a Saturday night and ever since they got together he was here every weekend" I shrugged climbing in bed next to the blonde, resting my head on him
"who knows"
The night went by, and the three of us were up in the kitchen, the clock read '12:48pm' and Y/n was still In her room, still in silence, I told Colby what I had told Sam and he seemed just as confused, we decided to order some dinner, just something small and ordered Y/n some too, I was sure something had happened but... maybe I was thinking to much into it
"foods here" Sam spoke bring it in, Colby was half way up the stairs as he said he was going to go get his hoodie from his room "Colby grab Y/n" the other called getting a thumbs up by him
Colby's POV
I jumped up the rest of the stairs going to Y/n's room first, it was weird for her not to be up, she's always awake before me at least but the house was just missing her, I knocked twice before hearing a voice murmur a small 'come in' I pushed it open and saw her body curled in her coves, curtains pulled shut, and tissues thrown onto the floor "hey- you okay?" I asked coming over to the side of the bed where it was empty. Her eyes flickered open and looked up to me
"yeah- think I'm getting Ill" she hummed, sitting herself up, I looked to her face and saw her nose was red and eyes glossy "just a cold"
"hm yeah- we've got dinner down stairs, got you a burger and fries" I spoke as I watched her, she nodded pulling her sheets away and crawling out the side she walked past me and straight to the stairs, I followed forgetting my hoodie and just went to her side, I could see her clearly now, mascara around her eyes along with dark circles, her hair wet on one side, the usual dark lipstick she wore, smudged against her cheek
"hey Y/n" Kat smiled passing her a bag of food "feeling better?"
"no don't feel it- thanks for the food but I think I'll eat up stairs- don't wanna make you guys sick" she spoke, her voice sounding gravelly and tired
"Y/n we don't care, come sit on the couch with us- we can watch a film or something- we have yours and Justins favourite, Tita-" Sam went to continue until the girl beside me face dropped
"I don't wanna sit down here" was the last thing she snapped before hurrying away and her door slammed, I looked to the others who just stood stunned...
the week carried on, time passing by as it does and still no sight of Y/n, I was getting worried she's never like this, I sat alone down stairs as Kat and Sam had gone out somewhere and the only thing that went through my mind was her, I couldn't help the fact I was thinking of her, Y/n's never in her room if someones in the house or if she is in her room- someones with her
but why is she acting off- everything was so different, I couldn't help but be nosey, it was all in good intention of course, thats what I kept telling myself as I stood ear to the door of her room just listening; her voice mumbled incoherent words, small little cries leaving her every so often, my body relaxed a little to much and I ended up falling against the door "Colby?" her voice called 'fuck' I cursed to myself before pushing her door open again "were you fucking listening through my door?" her tone was angry, a cry halting in her throat
"Look I'm sorry but I'm worried about you" I said, I didn't want to keep it from her, I was worried, scared even "you didn't even eat your food" I spoke looking to the bag still sat scrunched on her desk "what happened?"
"I'm fine Colby okay? For days people keep fucking asking me if I'm okay and I fucking am" she ragged the sheet over her "just get the fuck out"
"Y/n you're not fucking fine- I've known you long enough to know this isn't how you act all the time" I didn't mean for my voice to raise at her but I was annoyed but not with her, she was going through something and didn't want to admit it "what happened" I said, my voice stern. The covers flipped from her body, her eyes welled with tears, face wet
"He fucking cheated on me- There better? you know now, my boyfriend of 6 years cheated on me because I'm not good enough for him and I can't think straight, I feel sick all the goddamn time and all I have every hour is 'you okay Y/n?' No I'm fucking not" her voice broke, the sobs that once heaved in her chest being released
"I'm sorry" I spoke, coming next to her bed, she looked up to me and her face snapped, pearls of tears slipping down her cheeks
"Why wasn't I good enough, Colbs?" she whispered, her voice choked with sorrow, her head buried in her hands. I couldn't bear to see her in such pain. Without thinking, my arms enveloped her fragile frame, pulling her close to my chest as I settled on the edge of her mattress.
"You're more than good enough, Y/n – I promise you that," I reassured her, my voice a soothing balm against the storm of emotions raging within her. Y/n's face found refuge in the curve of my neck, and I could feel the warmth of her tears seeping into my skin. It broke my heart to witness her suffering. "Did he do anything to hurt you?" I asked gently, my concern deepening as I held her tighter. She shook her head, her breath hitching between sobs.
"He... he just said she was a friend, but then I walked in on them having sex at his apartment," she confessed, the pain evident in every word. My fingers traced gentle patterns along her back, offering what little comfort I could. "I just don't understand why," she continued, her eyes red and swollen from the tears. I nodded, listening intently as she poured her heart out.
"He's just stupid, Y/n. You're nothing but perfect," I whispered, my hand tenderly cupping her jaw, guiding her to look into my eyes. "He's the one who's made the biggest mistake of his life by letting someone as amazing as you slip away."
She nodded, her tear-stained eyes reflecting a mix of vulnerability and gratitude. In that moment, as I held her close, I vowed to be her pillar of support – a reminder that despite the pain, she was deserving of love and happiness. Together, we would navigate through the shadows, and I would do everything in my power to mend the shattered pieces of her heart.
"thanks Colby" Y/n smiled, hugging herself back into my chest
#cole robert brock#colby brock x reader#colby brock#colby x reader#colby brock fluff#sam and colby#xplr#sam golbach#colby brock smut#fluffy#heartbreak#connection#memories#colby brock fanfic#colby brock fic
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Just Love Me and Eat
Vampire!Eddie Munson x Reader
You watched Eddie die, so this must be some nightmare in your room.
tw: blood, biting, i think its gender neutral?
also just really loved Bones and All and the concept of cannibalism/vampirism as love so made this lil guy
Word Count: 2k
Part two
masterlist
—
Your room was dark, the curtains pulled shut and the lights off. It had been a month since Eddie died and you didn’t have the energy to pantomime life without him. You had no sense of what time it was, every day simply becoming another day where he was gone and you were left unmoored. If it wasn’t for the sound of birds chirping and kids playing outside, you wouldn’t have guessed time was passing at all.
You didn’t sleep, you hardly ate. Nancy and Robin brought you food like offerings, using their keys to enter your apartment and leaving simple meals outside your bedroom door with soft knocks on the wood. Their little tupperwares were probably the only things keeping you alive–you knew Eddie would be upset if you wasted food on his account.
The Hellfire shirt Wayne had given you was soft and well-worn, but it hardly smelled like Eddie anymore. The familiar scent of tobacco and leather and the incense that he used to try to cover the stink of weed was fading, soon you wouldn’t be able to detect it at all under the sharp tang of your sweat.
Curled up in your comforter, you kept thinking about how it should’ve been you instead. Eddie would have known how to keep living, he would’ve been able to move on. You? You were just surviving.
Sleep threatened the edges of your vision, you’d been staring at the fuzzy polaroid photo you had propped on your nightstand. It was of you and Eddie at some party, he was smiling broadly at the camera with you tugged neatly to his side. Both of you held solo cups, your head rested on his shoulder like it was meant to be there.
It was your last good memory of him, before Chrissy Cunningham died and everything you ever knew fell to pieces.
—
Your dreamless sleep was interrupted by something tapping at your window. At first you thought—prayed—you were hallucinating it. Maybe it was just a lack of sleep accumulating to finally make you hear things. But it insisted, the knocking at your second-floor window was incessant enough that it managed to pull you from your bed.
The quilt came with you as you carefully crossed the room to your window, trepidation making you bite your lip before you finally pulled back the curtain. It was a quick motion, ripping off the band-aid with the expectation of seeing a woodpecker or a squirrel or something normal on the other side.
What you didn’t expect to see was your dead boyfriend in the moonlight.
You nearly screamed, your eyes widening into dinner plates as you clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. It must’ve been a dream, or a nightmare. In your effort to get away from the window you tripped over discarded shoes on the floor and fell back onto your butt. Panicked, delirious tears roll down your cheeks as you start to roughly pinch the skin on your exposed thigh.
“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” you mumbled to yourself as you hyperventilated through the tears. It couldn’t be Eddie, Eddie was dead. He was in The Upside Down. You were never getting him back.
It was too late when you realized your window was unlocked, not-Eddie placing a palm flat against the glass to push it up. It was slow, you were too stunned to get up and try to close it. You were just outright sobbing on the floor of your bedroom, angry welts across your leg from where you’d been pinching at it almost hard enough to draw blood.
This Eddie looked different… he looked off. His eyes weren’t brown anymore: they were too bright, almost looking like a cat’s eyes in a photograph. Your window was fully open now, not-Eddie pitching himself through with a grace you’d never seen before.
“Did you miss me, baby?” he asked, his voice sounding the same as it used to. Your heart twisted, breaking into a million pieces—you’d dreamt of Eddie before, but never like this. His clothes were ripped and dirty, his battle vest in shreds along with the shirt beneath it. You could see the gnarled, twisting scars on his arms and his neck and parts of his torso through the shirt—everything the demobats had done to him.
He took in the state of your bedroom, appraising it with the careful eye of someone who had been there many times before. You kept crying into your hand, not able to catch your breath. Your head was spinning, part of you wanting to wake up from the dream as the rest wanted to stay asleep—you wanted to soak up time with any shred of Eddie you could have.
Not-Eddie took a few careful steps toward you, his not-so-white Reeboks softly hitting the ground as he crouched in front of you. He had his Hellfire shirt on under his shredded battle vest and leather jacket, blood and dirt and foggy black stains clinging to the fabric. The one Wayne had given you was an extra, something found in the back of Eddie’s closet.
“You… you’re dead,” you finally croaked, your voice cracking and raspy from disuse. The breath you took rattled in your lungs, the scent of earth and blood and something vaguely like tobacco filling your nose. “I watched you… the bats…”
It was rushing all back to you, the way you screamed when all the bats fell around Eddie. You and Dustin ran to him, watching him die in your arms. Steve carried you out of the Upside Down kicking and screaming.
Not-Eddie tutted at you, his yellow eyes roving over your form. They paused at your neck, at the hem of the Hellfire shirt against your thighs. Something inside you kept telling you to get off the floor and run, but you remained rooted to the spot.
“You really think some silly little bats could keep me away from you?” Not-Eddie asked, his head tilting. “Nothing could keep me from you. Nothing.”
His hands were freezing when they wrapped under your knees to drag you closer. Fat tears rolled down your face, stinging at your eyes and hot against your cheeks.
“This can’t be happening.”
Not-Eddie chuckled, his smile revealing perfectly white teeth. His canines and outermost incisors in the top row of his teeth were elongated, looking like fangs more than anything else. Your mind stuttered, frantically trying to keep up.
His hands were still on the backs of your knees, his gaudy costume rings cold against your skin. His calloused fingers pressed at the popliteal veins at the backs of your legs. If anything he seemed to be preoccupied with rolling them under his fingertips, tracing along them.
“Guess they weren’t normal bats, baby,” he muttered, rolling from crouching on his feet to kneeling between your legs.
Your breath hitched as he bent over you, one dirt-crusted hand pressing against the floorboards near your head. His long curls fell down around you, curtaining your dark bedroom from your view as your breaths became shallow. He was so close to your Eddie that you almost found yourself convinced.
He leaned down, nosing at your neck. Hot breaths huffed at the curve between your neck and shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he growled in a low voice, a large hand pressing to your sternum to pin you to the floor. He was so strong, it was like he had placed a weight on your chest.
“I’m so sorry,” you whined, your voice pathetic and soft. You stared up at the ceiling, your hands loosely tugging at his leather jacket. “I shouldn’t have let Harrington drag me away, should’ve stayed.”
He shushed me, pressing his nose to my skin and inhaling deeply. “S’okay, baby. You’ll make it up to me,” he mumbled, his voice seeming only partially present in the conversation. Not-Eddie’s lips pressed to your throat.
“Your heart is beating so fast… smells so good,” he groaned, licking up the side of your throat for a moment. “I’m starving, baby. You gonna help me?”
His voice was dripping with soft affection, like someone talking to a skittish wild animal. “Eddie…” you whined, your instincts screaming that something was wrong.
“Shh shh,” he mumbled, placing open mouthed kisses over your pulse point. His voice was broken, a desperation in it that you understood and recognized. “It’s okay... I just gotta eat, I’m so hungry. Haven’t eaten anything… wanted to see you first.”
Your head was spinning, the realization that this is your Eddie snapping into place like a sudden, infallible truth. Your heart was still pounding against your ribs like a hummingbird trapped in a cage. For the first time you felt like prey as Eddie kept you cornered against the floor. But he was still gentle, not taking what he easily could have.
“I love you,” you whispered, tears clouding your eyes. He was different, more monster than man, but this was Eddie. Your Eddie.
“Love you so much,” he said, his teeth scraping against your delicate skin. The words sounded like a prayer, like they’d been ripped from his chest. He seemed stuck, his muscles clenching as he traced his tongue and teeth along the thick vein in your throat. “Missed you.”
You nodded, swallowing thickly. “Eat, Eddie. S’okay,” you mumbled despite your instincts screaming at you to get him off of you.
“I know you’re hungry, let me help.” You tilted your head, pressing your throat to his teeth. A lamb to the slaughter. He stiffened at the action, fighting to keep himself under control. “Don’t want you to be hungry. Not anymore.”
The sound he made was like he got punched in the stomach. Eddie groaned, his fingers pressing into the floorboard hard enough to make the wood split. Your brow pinched, concern running through you. He still hadn’t taken action, not yet.
Your fingers threaded into the soft curls at the nape of Eddie’s neck, pulling his head closer. “You won’t hurt me, Eds. Just love me and eat.”
He grunted, the ghost of a nod coming from him as his nose bumped your neck. The pain of Eddie’s teeth sinking into your neck made you whimper. His hand moved from your sternum to caress your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly. The sting faded to warmth, Eddie’s lips pressed firmly against your throat as he suckled at you.
After a while you could hardly keep your hand in his hair, so dizzy and tired that the back of your knuckles smacked against the floor. You felt like you were melting into it, vision doubling as your eyes crossed. Your breaths were shallow and slow. It was hard to think, your mind not able to even tell what time it was or how long it had been.
But your exhaustion was enough, Eddie pulled away. He lapped at the remaining blood on your skin for a moment before sitting back completely. You looked up at him with dizzy eyes, vaguely categorizing the way blood was smeared across his full lips and down his chin.
“C’mon, baby,” he said, gathering your loose limbs from where you’d sprawled on the floor. He seemed more himself now, his actions considerate and his voice back to its normal cadence. He lifted you in a smooth motion, carrying you to bed with a tenderness you remembered from him. He was so much stronger now.
After situating you on the covers, he removed his jacket and toed off his shoes. His body settled behind yours, making the mattress dip as he pulled your spine to his chest. You were fighting with every blink, trying to keep your eyes open for as long as possible. If this was a dream you didn’t want Eddie to disappear.
“I’ll be here when you wake up, I swear,” he said into your hair, his large hands smoothing along your waist and your bicep. The reassurance was enough for you to drift off, the blood loss pulling you toward unconsciousness. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
#stranger things#eddie munson x reader#vampire!eddie#vampire!eddie x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson imagine#kas!eddie#vampire#bones and all movie#gn!reader
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gabe perreault imagine please 🙏🙏
long time coming | gabe perreault 💌🌊⭐️
gabe perreault x fem!reader
summary: you're sick and the only person who can cure you is your best friend, gabe!
warning(s): fluff, fluff, fluff
author's note: eee this is my first gabe fic! thank u anon for suggesting him, i was in a huge writers slump so ty ty ty! enjoy!
You had heard stories of people falling in love with their best friend; it happened to your parents, your older sister and her boyfriend, all of your cousins, but to you, love just felt unattainable, like maybe you were the exception. The love bug skipped a generation and was already preparing for the next—but now? Now you felt it. You felt it crawl underneath your skin and bubble in your stomach. You felt your chest tighten and the heat rise to your cheeks.
You were in love, true love.
“Gabe,” you groaned over the phone, his breathing sounding staticy over the line. You had been sick for a few days, only a slight cough and an itchy throat, but today felt 10 times worse. Your stomach was aching, your head felt like it was getting hit by a basketball every couple of seconds, and you sniffled so frequently you were sure that something was going to go up the wrong pipe and straight up to your brain.
And you felt bad, not only because of your illness, but because it was nearly 2 AM and you could hear Gabe shuffle underneath his dark blue sheets in the dorm he shared with his best friend, Will Smith. You knew it was late and this was wrong. I mean, the boy had a game against Boston University in the morning, now was not the time to wake him, but you just didn’t know what to do. You felt like you were dying and all you needed was one of Gabe’s famous hugs and maybe a back rub (he was really good at those).
“Hey,” he said quietly, trying not to wake the snoring Will on the other side of the room. His eyes were fighting to stay open, determined not to lean onto his fluffy white pillow and fall back to sleep. “You okay?”
You sniffled, grabbing another tissue from the box that laid beside your bed. “I feel like I’m dying,” you responded, your voice sounding congested and nasally—not in the slightest like your normal tone.
You could hear shuffling on the other side of the phone. Then, you could hear keys jangling and his closet door opening, a hoodie getting thrown over his body, and then the door to his dorm being pulled open. You wanted to protest because you knew what he was doing, where he was going, but you had no energy to speak. Instead, your stubborn voice turned to loud coughs that made Gabe want to pull you in his arms and hold you until they faded into oblivion.
But he couldn’t. It was too much for you. It would be weird. You wouldn’t feel the same. It was the exact same thing he’s been telling himself for months (really what he’s been telling himself since the moment he met you). It would ruin your guys’ friendship and you will never want to speak to him again. If only he could hear your thoughts because then, maybe he’d be thinking differently, and it wouldn’t be so hard.
Three soft knocks on the door of your dorm signaled exactly what you suspected would happen. Gabe was your best friend and if he caught the flu, you would be there holding his hand and making him a bowl of chicken noodle soup. If you were crying about a failed test, he would buy you ice cream and agree to watch countless episodes of The Bachelor until you were feeling okay again. One time you were sick with Covid and Gabe didn’t even care. He stayed with you during quarantine, snuggled under mountains of blankets, watching movies until you were sick of them, and gossiping about anyone and anything. It wasn’t a surprise that he caught the sickness a couple days later. Your moms laughed about the memory, finding it endearing that you two loved each other so much that you were willing to be sick together.
Gabe settled some medicine on your bedside table before lifting your light pink covers and crawling into bed with you. You fit perfectly into his arms, like this spot was made just for you. Despite your sweaty forehead and aching body, he held you tightly, placing small kisses on the crown of your head. Your parents had always joked about you two getting married someday, but sometimes you wished that it was real; that you would grow old with him and live in a big white house with a white picket fence and a large rose garden in the backyard. You truly couldn’t see your life with anyone else.
But that was silly. Gabe was your best friend. That would just be weird—right?
“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He walked all the way from his building to yours in the middle of the night despite having a ginormous game tomorrow. He felt unreal, like how could a person be so perfect and somehow be yours?
“Don’t be,” his words were just as soft. His chin resting on the top of your head as yours fit in the space between his neck and shoulder, leaving delicate kisses on his adams apple. This isn’t what best friends do, you told yourself. Best friends don’t kiss each other. Best friends don’t cuddle underneath sheets and hold hands to “warm each other up.” It was confusing and you hated it. You hated not knowing how he was feeling when you knew exactly how you felt about Gabe.
“You didn’t have to come here.”
“You called.”
You laughed. “That doesn’t mean anything. You could’ve stayed in bed and slept longer and had good dreams and—”
“Hey,” he smiled down softly at you, lifting your chin to look up at him. His hand lingered there for a while, not wanting to move away from you. There was something about you that made Gabe want to be closer and closer. There was something that made him want to parade you around campus, telling everyone that you were his. He wanted to see you in his jersey and kiss you after games and hold you tight at parties. He wanted to take you with him to New York when he plays for the Rangers after college and introduce you to his family as his girlfriend instead of just his best friend. Gabe was ready for more, but he hated thinking that you might not be. “I wasn’t just going to let you die, okay?”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, like that one time you pushed me down that water slide at Hurricane Harbor.”
“Pft, you wanted to go down that.”
You chuckled incredulously. “There is no way you just said that.”
“‘Oh, Gabe, please take me on this waterslide. I’ve been dying to go with you.’”
“I don’t sound like that.”
He grinned. “Yeah, you sound like this,” he said, pinching his nose with his fingers, his voice sounding blocked and nasally.
You pushed his hands away, hiding your face in his clothed chest. “Shut up.”
“C’mon, you love it.”
“I will fight you.”
He ran his hand up and down your arm, your eyes fluttering closed and your breathing steadying. He held you tighter, wrapping both arms around you and snuggling deeper into the bed. His last words before you fell into hypnosis lingered in your mind as you couldn’t even escape your lovestruck dreams of the perfect boy. “Keep telling yourself that, sicko.”
By the time the sun rose, you were sure that he would be gone; that his hoodie would be collected from the carpet, that his legs would no longer be intertwined with yours, and that his belongings would be gone, but he was still there and you were still in his arms and everything was still perfect. His breathing was soft and slow, his little curls were a bit tussled, his cheeks were pale, and you wondered what he was dreaming about that left a ghost of a smile on his face.
You wanted to wake up like this everyday and everyday after that. So yeah, maybe you were in love. Maybe you were in deep. And maybe you were ready to tell him.
He rustled around before lifting his eyes open, his smile growing wider when he saw your pink face, knowing he caught you staring at him as you glanced around the room, trying not to make eye contact with the boy.
“Feeling better?” he asked, turning to his side and facing you.
A strand slipped through your loose ponytail and settled on the front of your face, covering your eyes as he allowed his hands to work faster than his mind. He slowly brought his hand up, carefully moving the strand behind your ear. And you would expect the moment to be over but when his hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb lightly running over the smooth skin of your face, you knew that maybe just maybe there could be something more.
You nodded slowly. “I’m okay.”
“I’m glad. I hate seeing my girl sick,” he spoke softly as if speaking any louder would shatter the calming atmosphere.
My girl. You wanted to allow your mind to toss and turn, investigate the meaning behind those two words, search for his thought-process, his feelings, anything, but for the first time in forever, you felt serene and calm with him. You didn’t feel the need to wonder what this meant for the two of you. You were perfectly content where you were now, where you were going, and what you were going to do next.
You placed your hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat fast yet gentle. His eyes wandered down to your place of connection and when they met yours again, you could’ve sworn you saw something: a spark, hope, clarity, confirmation.
And when he leaned in, holding your face close with the hand still resting on your cheek, his lips hovering over yours, desperate to connect, you knew nothing would be the same. He would never be just your best friend anymore. And you were perfectly okay with that.
As Gabe leaned in, his lips met yours in a tender, yet passionate kiss. It was a moment that felt suspended in time, where every sensation was heightened—the warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips, the racing of your heart. In that instant, all doubts melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of certainty and bliss.
The kiss deepened, as if both of you were pouring all the unspoken feelings and desires into this one act. Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands as you pulled him closer, wanting to feel every part of him against you. His arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer as if he never wanted to let go.
Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, the outside world fading into insignificance. When you finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, you found yourselves gazing into each other's eyes, the realization of what had just happened sinking in. But there was no fear, no uncertainty, only a profound sense of connection and joy.
“I’m sick,” you said, making Gabe chuckle softly. Of course your first words after a long-anticipated kiss would be that. But that’s what Gabe loved about you. You were you in every sense of the word. You are the reason his stomach hurts from laughing every time he comes back to his dorm, staring into space as he thinks about your giggle and your smile and your stupid humor. You are everything. You’re the world.
I just kissed the world, Gabe thought. My girl.
With a smile that spoke volumes, Gabe whispered, "I don’t care."
“You will when you get sick.”
“And will you be here? When I get sick?” he asked, his thumb running back and forth on the exposed space of skin on your pelvis.
You nodded. You would be there for him through anything no matter what. “Always.”
“Then I’m okay with it.”
And in that moment, as you nestled into his embrace once more, you knew that the stories were real and true; that love is real and true, because you just fell in it and you couldn’t be happier.
#gabe perreault#boston college#boston college hockey#gabe perreault x reader#gabe perreault imagines#gabe perreault imagine#gabe perreault fluff
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worth the wait
for jjk valentine's day 2024
summary: you're all dressed up for yuki's return from her business trip. too bad she's going to leave you wanting and needy for a little bit longer.
word count: 3.5k+
warnings: NSFW content (under the cut!), reader wears lingerie, fem! reader, teasing, eating you out, tribadism/scissoring, fingering (a little), body worship, calls you needy, sweet thing and princess
The image shows up sent, but undelivered yet again. There’s a thread of three images: a close-up shot of all the little details on your two piece lingerie, a mirror selfie, and then a shot of your hand artfully placed over your bare stomach as you lay down.
Yuki’s flight was supposed to land three hours ago. From there it’s a 45-minute cab ride to your shared apartment. You had still been waiting patiently in bed during hour one, knowing that delays were inevitable, but by the second hour, your frustration had kicked in and you’d decided to anxiously pace instead. She’d promised to be home on time for a quiet night with you, but there’s only so much power she has over these kinds of circumstances.
That doesn’t mean you can’t be annoyed about it.
With a huff, you sink down onto the couch, arms crossed. At least if she saw the message you wouldn’t feel so upset. You’re just about to call it a day and pull on a big t-shirt to get comfy, maybe make dinner for one, when the front door shakes slightly. Quickly following the noise was a jingle of keys falling onto the floor.
“Shit.”
It’s Yuki’s voice. A brief flicker of joy churns in your chest, before you remember her lack of response and the annoyance settles back in. Even so you find yourself practically bouncing over to open the door for her, forgetting about your current state of dress. The frustrated look on your face fades into a smile as you see her. She looks weary, but she still manages to shoot you a winning smile.
“Hey. Look at you.” Her voice drops to a purr as her eyes slowly travel up your bare legs, to the panties that barely cover you, and landing finally on the lacey bra that’s showing a lot more than it covers.
In just one devouring look, you’ve forgotten about your earlier annoyance of her being late. Instead a blush burns on your cheeks. Yuki doesn’t even show any sign of being surprised, even though she hadn’t seen the messages. The messages! She catches on to your facial expression as the thought crosses your mind.
“Sorry.” She says apologetically. “My phone got absolutely destroyed in a fight, so I couldn’t text you at all.”
A dramatic groan exits her throat. It all happens quickly – her rough kick at her carry-on bag to send it into the apartment, one hand holding onto your waist to push you stumbling backwards as she pushes the front door closed behind her and buries her face into the crook of your neck.
“Did you get all dressed up for me? Hope you took some pretty photos of it before it gets all dirty and ruined by you.” She kisses your ear. With both hands holding onto your waist, she’s half-pushing, half-carrying you until you’re back in the bedroom where you had been waiting your evening away.
The reminder of it makes you furrow your eyebrows together. “I was in the right mood before…” You let your sentence trail off, squirming under her scrutinising gaze.
It doesn’t phase her in the slightest. “Want some help warming up?”
That smile of hers is very difficult to say no to.
Yuki likes to take her time.
Even with exhaustion written all over her features, she seems determined to tease you incessantly. It starts with wandering hands, and an intense furrow between her brows as she takes in the way your skin bends and complies to her squeezes. It’s almost as though she’s searing this–you–into her memory. She kneels between your legs, keeping them spread apart in a firm hold that makes you whimper at how easily she moves you around.
She pulls you down to kiss you tenderly, mouth barely brushing against yours. All you can feel is the plushness of her mouth and her warm breath as she teases you. It’s you that has to chase after her lips and she laughs as you do so, just staying out of reach.
“Needy little thing. I thought I taught you better than this.” Yuki’s fingers tighten their hold around your spread thighs. She leaves a string of kisses across your cheek instead, giving your skin tiny licks as she does so. You’re so sure she mumbles an apology at one point, but she quickly follows it up with her hands pinching at your still-covered nipple. She’s not obviously teasing, but it’s enough to make you restless.
Her hands move so slowly, latching onto every patch of bare skin with renewed enthusiasm. She’s not satisfied until she hears any sound come out of your mouth at her touching, and then she’ll move on to the next location. There’s no surprises. All her movements are easy to follow, one after the other: her fingers grazing over your waist until you giggle, a breath of throaty laughter in your ear as you squirm at her digging her knuckles into your shoulders, her hands splayed over the top of your thighs… and then the movement of her hands running up your whole body to do it all over again.
Finally, she unclasps the top piece of your lingerie, letting it fall partway down your front before she envelops one of your nipples into her warm mouth. A kiss for the other one. It sends a lightning throb of pleasure through your chest. A kiss in the centre of your chest. Every breath feels shorter than the next. You haven’t even realised that your arms are tensed by your sides, holding you up so that you’re still sitting. Yuki squishes your sides and your tummy again, forcing a giggle from your throat that fades into a moan when she drags a finger up your clothed slit.
“Aww, sweet thing.” The end of her words is accompanied by a well-timed nibble on your shoulder. “If I could, I’d just touch you like this for the next few hours. But you already look all needy.” Her fingers are back to running over your bare skin instead of where you’re starting to feel an ache for her. Your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are already blown. With the lingerie top hanging off you, you’re the very picture of debauchery. Just the way Yuki likes you. “C’mon then.”
One piece of clothing finally comes sliding off, leaving you in just your panties. She kneels down carelessly in front of you, her hands greedily gripping onto your hips as she blows warm air towards your aching core. She kisses your covered clit with a messy and loud ‘mwah’ that has you trying to close your legs, although you’re not sure whether it’s out of embarrassment or pleasure. But she doesn’t let you. In a motion that seems effortless, she hooks your legs over her shoulders, locking you into place.
“Stay still, princess. And I promise I’ll give you a good reward for it, okay?” Yuki sends you a wink which has you squirming in protest.
Before you can voice your distress, she’s touching your heat with her pretty fingers, pulling your panties to the side and teasing your hole open. And she knows just how to do it right as well; knows exactly where to press down on your inner thighs with her other hand to have you aching for just a little more pleasure. It’s so slow, the way she traces your hole with two of her fingers, occasionally flicking up towards your sensitive bud.
“Mmh… Yuki!” To your dismay, your voice stutters through your uneven breathing as she touches you.
“Here?” Yuki murmurs, turning her head to nibble your thigh and giving the bare patch of skin a kitten lick. “You’re all shaky. Don’t go shy on me now. You were so upset when I came back late. Aren’t you going to tell me off?”
You don’t want to. You don’t even remember that she came back late, too busy focused on her fingers, too busy wanting her mouth–
Yuki pauses, grinning between your legs. “Easy. Tell me off and don’t hold back about it.” This isn’t fair.
You let out a frustrated sound, inching towards the edge of the bed to be closer to her face. She follows your movements, pulling back slightly.
“You should have taken better care of your phone–” A gasp leaves your lips as she sucks your clit into her mouth gently. How the hell does she want you to tell her off when she’s so determined to please you? “Should’ve gotten a new– ahh– one…”
“That’s the best you can do?” She’s speaking directly into your heat. It feels hot. Her tongue dives inside, and you lose your mind. A swath of pleasure courses through your veins and your hips jerk uncontrollably into her warm mouth. Good thing she’s got such a good grip on you. It’s so wet, and it sounds so sloppy, the way that her mouth sucks and the way her tongue curls into you. It’s not enough to hit that spot, but it’s enough for you to jerk forward, a hand twining through her hair desperately.
A low whine leaves your lips. She continues her action, squeezing your thighs every time they clench. You’re not even sure how she’s still managing to keep your legs spread apart from how tightly you’re trying to curl them around her head, but she seems to be enjoying it. Her fingers join the mix as her mouth moves to your clit, and suck hard, just as her fingers push their way inside you. Too easy. The moan that leaves her mouth, along with a breathless mumble of your name has you mewling again.
You should probably feel embarrassed at how quickly they slide in, but you’re too distracted by the way her fingers curve up, right onto a spot that has your mind blanking. It comes all too suddenly, the sudden onslaught of pleasure causing the tightening in your stomach to release.
“Yuki– that feels really– mnh!”
Her eyes look up at you, noting the way your head tilts back slightly, the red flush covering your cheeks and waits for you to look at her again. “There you are.”
Your arms are trembling from the exertion of holding yourself up, and from the constant flexing of muscles as Yuki touches your sensitive bud and sends a pleasurable tremor through your whole body again. “Yuki.” You breathe out. Her mouth is wet from you.
“Mmm, yes?” She must know how she looks while kneeling in between your legs like that with that innocent smile on her face. A laugh sneaks out from her throat as your mouth drops open. Yuki traces two fingers up and down your slick. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to talk too much.”
Your hips jerk in sensitivity. A thrill of desperation runs through you when she pulls her fingers away, a sticky trail following her action. Pleasure thrums through your thighs at the thought of more. It must be messy. You must have made that mess. Your heart rate picks up again. Yuki licks her lips before she says her next words.
“I know what you’re really after.” She pulls away from you and another whine leaves your lips at the loss of her warm mouth. “Shh, you’ve been so good to me so far, so compliant. Don’t stop now.” She eases out of her clothing easily, tossing it to the side as she clambers on top of you, moving you further back onto the bed like it’s nothing.
Her voice continues as she adjusts the both of you, wrapping one of your legs around her waist. “You don’t want something filling you up today, huh? You just want me on top.”
“What?” You ask breathlessly. You can feel it. She’s wet too, she must be for those sorts of sounds to be heard from where she’s using her hips to grind against you. “You always have so much to s– mnh!” She presses down hard with her hips, just at where both your sensitive buds brush against each other.
She leans down, pressing your chests against each other briefly and you can feel her heart racing as she pants.
“Sometimes.” She whispers into your ear, pushing against you harder at an angle that has you slack-jawed. “You’re so needy. And when you want something inside…” Somehow she manages to slide her fingers in during her motions, pulling it out quickly and you can feel your walls flutter at the loss.
“Y-Yuki–”
“You’ll beg and whine.” She stresses the words, leaning back up again to go a little faster. She doesn’t let your leg slide off her waist, holding onto you tightly to keep her stable on top. “Just like how you are now.”
All you can do is cling onto her waist as she moves on top of you fluidly.
“Always so messy.” She coos, wiping a sweaty strand of hair away from your face . “You never let me take my time with you, huh?”
It’s overwhelming, and you think you’re blabbering some nonsense about how it feels good, but it doesn’t even sound like words to you. You’re too far gone with how her hips are moving against yours; slowly, but somehow, sending so much through your body.
“But you like this.” She slows again, moving her hips in a circling motion as you try to catch your breath. “You’d prefer me to just take you, right?”
Your voice shakes and you’re writhing under her touch, but she’s a little too accustomed to keeping you still. “It’s too much!” Gasping, you feel your mind become overtaken with pleasure. You can feel Yuki, all warm, her weight pressing down on you pleasurably into the sheets. You can feel another tightening in your belly, and it’s hot. It’s really, really hot. A breath of her name leaves your lips instead.
“Thought of you a lot while I was gone.” She murmurs, pushing into you a little harder. “How did I know I’d come home to you dressed up as a little present for me to unwrap?”
It’s the sound of her excited laugh that finally pushes you over the edge, a white-hot searing feeling thrumming through your body. Just seeing you lose control under her has her reaching her high too, letting out a breath of your name that you don’t hear through your pounding heart and ringing in your ears.
You throw your arm over your eyes, trying to catch your breath. Yuki’s hands massage your shoulders, once, twice, and then she pulls back tenderly. Letting go of your leg comes first, and then she kneels between your legs again. A choked whine leaves your lips as you feel her kiss your clit. It’s too much. Thankfully, she realises it too and lets you try to relax on your own. Every slow movement sends an electric thrum through your body as you try to stretch out your body. It doesn’t hurt. It just still feels a little too good.
“So, Valentine’s Day, huh?” Yuki’s voice breaks through your clouded head. It sounds slightly muffled. Slowly, you let your arm fall off your face, staring at the ceiling.
“Mhm.” You voice back, throat still spent from half-heard moans and trying to speak while your body shakes with aftershocks of pleasure.
Yuki places a kiss on your forehead, arranging you properly onto the mattress. A small grunt leaves your lips as she sits on top of you. She tilts her head, keeping you in her line of vision. “I didn’t know you were the type to want to celebrate things like that.”
You shrug your shoulders. There’s a pause and you dare to peek at her face. Her expression is neutral, but you know better. It’s her thinking face. What could she possibly be thinking about? Was it weird?
In all your time together, you’d never really made a big deal of celebrations. Neither had she. She was happy with whatever you wanted, whether it be a party or something with just the two of you. Tsukumo Yuki is no pushover. She argued calmly, never raising her voice. You met her friends and she met yours, and they were all such wildly different and interesting people that you’d started to realise where her confident and bold nature had arisen from. You often lost track of all the people she knew. The perks of travelling the world, you decided.
She laughs, loudly and unashamed. It should startle you, but it just makes you look in her direction instead.. “Something funny?”
“No.” Yuki leans down, elbows placed above your shoulders as her hand delicately runs through your hair. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
You curl your fingers to the side of her cheek, sliding your fingers through some of her hair. “Mmh. You’re upset because you didn’t plan anything for us, huh?”
Her eyes close briefly as she feels your touch. She shrugs, and thankfully, there’s no sign of an apology on her face. “Next time.”
“Oh, there’s a next time?”
“I’m going somewhere next month.” She ignores your question, moving to sit beside you instead, stretching her legs out unabashedly, taking up space like she always did. You move to sit up beside her as well, eyes not moving off her lips mouthing off her words.
“Oh.” Without meaning to, there’s a sinking feeling in your chest. There’s never anything wrong with her business trips. She made reasons to go places but she always came home to you. She always made sure that you knew that you never strayed from her thoughts while she was overseas. It was like this before you’d started dating. Still. Something about her bringing it up to you now felt insincere, like she was pushing herself away from you. You two were dating, sure. Did she love you? Did you love her? Did that even matter at this point in time?
Yuki turns her head to face you properly, and you can finally see her face. It causes an odd thump in your heart. Her face is relaxed and her eyebrows aren’t lightly furrowed in thought like they usually are. There are still things you don’t know about her.
“I want you to come with me.” She says simply, as though those words haven’t frozen you in place.
This is new. This is unexpected. Tsukumo Yuki might as well have just proposed.
Your fists clench on the mattress. “I don’t have the money or the time set aside right now to–”
“My treat. I’ll pay.” She cuts you off.
It means more than that. You can see it in her eyes, the calculating tilt of her head as though she’s wondering what you’ll say next. She never minces words and says whatever she thinks or feels out loud brashly. So why did it feel like she was dancing around something else here?
Your response comes out as a mumble, still trying to catch up with what’s actually going on. “Okay.”
“Just okay?!”
You nod. She responds to your acceptance by grumbling something under her breath. It has you leaning closer, trying to figure out what she said. “What was that?”
“I said,” she pauses in favour of swiping a thumb over your cheek, sighing. “That I don’t know what I expected.”
You blink up her confusedly. Your mind is still a little bleary, and you’re sure you’re going to fall asleep soon. Your whole body feels the happy tiredness that comes after every session with Yuki. But you refuse to let it take over. Not before you know. Not before she tells you what’s really on her mind.
“Look.” She sighs again, turning to face you properly and crossing her legs. “This is new to me.”
Dazed, you feel yourself laugh at the thought. You were friends before this. You were one of the many people she met up with when she craved friendly company, and then suddenly she wasn’t. Suddenly, you were going on dates and moving in together. For some reason, the thought of this being new to her was hilarious.
“I’m being serious!” She says back, not in an annoyed way, but rather like stating a fact. “You, me, I’ve never done this before. Taking things further has never been something I’ve thought about.” Her voice trails off. “I like this though.”
You feel your breath hitch. There it was – unequivocal truths.
“When I was away this time, I kept thinking about you, waiting at home. And then when I was at the airport, without my phone…” She rolls her eyes at the memory, raising an eyebrow at you when you chuckle. “I was really thinking about how awful it was that I couldn’t contact you in some way, to tell you that I was coming home.”
There’s an odd stress on her final word. You think you get it now. “Hmm,” is all you reply with.
“So it makes sense that I’d want you to come with me. Then I don’t have to worry about it anymore.”
You snort. “Solving the problem as it comes your way, huh?”
“Obviously.” She smiles at you, running a hand through your hair and nudging you closer to her bare form. She only continues once you’re comfortably leaning against her side. A loud, contented sigh leaves her lips. “So come with me.” She whispers, so that only you can hear it, even though it’s only you two in this room.
You nod, feeling her kiss your head. “Okay.”
#tsukumo yuki x reader#yuki tsukumo x reader#yuki x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#tsukumo yuki smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk yuki x reader#tsukumo yuki#yuki tsukumo#brainrot for her is so much <33#alathea valentine's day 2024 fics!
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New years eve party (modern!Aemond Targaryen x reader, side Alysmond)
synopsis: Every year you and your friend throw a new years eve party for all the singles in your building. When you first invite the new neighbour he declines, only a year later it seems like everything has changed.
warnings: Alys being a bad girlfriend, alcohol, self induldent fluff at the end, afab reader
word count: 2.8k
taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1
(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom/series or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)
A/N: The year is about to end so happy new year to everyone!
The first time Aemond and you meet, he just moved into the apartment complex, two floors beneath you and your flat mate and best friend. It's late in the year already so you decide to welcome him to the building with some Christmas cookies in hand.
"Hello. I saw you move in here last week and wanted to welcome you to the building." You offer your hand to shake after he opens the door with a questioningly arched eyebrow. Aemond isn't a man of many words you learn quickly.
"Thank you, that's... nice." The platinum blond shakes your hand and takes the cookies from you. "I'm Aemond. Aemond Targaryen. And you are?"
You give him your name. "If you ever need anything, I live two floors above. All you need to do is knock."
Aemond nods curtly.
"Oh and since new years is right around the corner, we always throw a little party for all the singles in the building. You should stop by if you want. We won't bite, I promise." The smile on your face refuses to fade even with his rather cold demeanor.
"Again, thank you, but..." A feminine voice interrupts him.
"Aemond, love, who is there?" The woman who the voice belongs to appears in the door frame as well. Holding onto your new neighbors arm almost possessively.
"Hi, I'm your new neighbor from two floors above. I just wanted to introduce myself real quick and bring over some cookies." You state. Your smile falters a bit as you see the gorgeous dark haired woman.
"Well, you did that now, didn't you? We still have lots to unpack so you'll have to excuse us." She says in a clearly faked friendly tone that hides nothing of her words true meaning. To stay away from both of them.
"Sure. I'm sorry for bothering you in the middle of moving. How silly of me. Have a nice day." You give them a small wave and go back to your apartment.
You couldn't lie to yourself about the disappointment you felt at the sight of Aemond's girlfriend, but he was attractive so was it really a surprise he wasn't single? You shake your head to get rid of those thoughts when a key turns in the door.
"I'm home!" Sarah calls out as the sound of her keys hitting the ceramic bowl sounds through the apartment.
"I'm in the living room." You answer back.
"Hey, how was your day?" She asks with a relaxed smile.
"Same old, same old." You mutter, still kinda in thought.
Together you go to the kitchen to cook, like every night, when you decide to speak up about what happened.
"Have you met the neighbors from two floors down yet?" Curiosity coats your tone as you try to remain nonchalant.
"I thought it was only one. That weird, blond guy. I've seen him around once or twice." Sarah busies herself by stirring in one of the pots.
"Yeah him and his girlfriend. I went to welcome him today and she was really possessive and borderline bitchy. Like, she couldn't get me out of their bubble again fast enough. Didn't even give me her name." Your eyebrows furrow and your nose scrunches up slightly at the memory.
"Maybe she felt threatened by you?" Sarah chuckles and then a moment of silence follows. "Now that you mention her though... I did hear a woman yelling on my way up here earlier."
That´s the end of the topic for then as the two of you change to lighter topics of conversation.
However, the strangers keep occupying your mind. After Sarah tells you about the altercation, you hear them on and off as well, only to see them madly in love the next time you saw them.
New year’s eve passes and so does Sarah´s and your party. The night going by as eventless as it could. Probably because everyone is drunk off their tits, but when you wake up in bed next to one of your neighbors, you just feel bad. You couldn´t even put your finger on what exactly made you feel this way. It just feels wrong. Okay that wasn't entirely right. If you were just a little more honest with yourself you would know that it was because your brain had decided to spend its free time romanticizing the idea of Aemond and how it would be to be in a relationship not only in general, but with him. Dreaming of him wasn't a rare occurrence and whenever you met him at the mailbox, you could feel yourself blushing as if you were in middle school. Simultaneously not far from you, as the months progressed, Aemond's relationship deteriorated more and more. Alys had grown gradually more jealous and toxic to a point where even he couldn't excuse her behavior anymore. Which hurt more than he would ever want to admit. The two break up and make up almost regularly. The day she tells him she is pregnant however, is the day things escalate. You hear the fight even in your apartment. There's screaming, slamming doors and after about an hour there's complete silence.
Like the good (and slightly worried) neighbor that you are, you make your way down the stairs, knocking quietly on the hard wood.
In a matter of seconds the door gets opened with a rather energetic and aggressive motion.
"Alys, I told you it's..." Aemond growled until he realized it is you who had knocked and not his ex-girlfriend. "Fuck, sorry. I didn't realize we were that loud. I promise it won't happen again."
"No, it's... It's alright. It sounded bad though. Are you good?" Your eyes soften and scan his presence.
The knuckles of his right hand were pressed into an ice pack, his chest heaves with every sharp breath. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, before he answers.
"Yeah, I mean no, but yeah." His one seeing eye drops towards the floor, unable to look at you. It's obvious he doesn't want to talk and you are not one to pry for answers, so you leave it.
"Okay. Um, if you need something, anything. You know where to knock." You give Aemond a sympathetic smile.
Against all your hopes, he actually does knock on your door a week or so later. Granted it is only for some eggs, but still. A win is a win, you tell yourself as you hand him the carton with the eggs he had requested.
"Fuck, thank you. Really. I don't know where my head is these days." Aemond scratches the back of his neck, giving you a perfect peak of his boxers underneath the grey sweatpants. He must've just come from his morning run.
"No problem at all. I did tell you that you could ask for anything if you needed it after all." You assure him.
"Hm, you did. Still... You'll definitely get those back."
Before much more of a conversation can start up, he is gone again. A pattern that continues for the next couple of months, even though he does warm up to you noticeably without Alys´ influence around. Going as far as to even give a small smile here and there. What shocks you the most however, is when he stops you by the mailbox one day close to the beginning of December.
“So, uhm, I know it´s still a while until new year’s, but I just remembered that you told me about this party you and Sarah have every year.”
“Yeah, what about it?” You look up from the mail to meet his eye and tilt your head.
“I was wondering if that invitation still stands by chance?” His brow is furrowed and his tongue swipes out to wet his lips.
Aemond's question makes your heart beat faster. "Of course. Definitely. I'd be happy to see you there." A wide smile spreads your lips.
From previous talks you had gathered that the blond wasn't much of a party animal, but then again neither were you.
“We usually start around eight, but it´s all very relaxed, really.” You inform him and then say your goodbye as the two of you reach his door.
Until the day of the party the two of you only see each other in passing. Giving a quick nod or wave and a smile to the other as you made your way wherever you had to be. Even the evening of it feels like you are constantly running around. Between preparing snacks and drinks, greeting people left and right, refilling stuff and taking shots and dancing with Sarah there wasn't a single moment to chill, before the doorbell rings one final time for the evening.
"Aem! You made it!" You call out happily and as his eye meets yours he witnesses your face lighting up visibly. The nickname for sure is a surprise at first, but taking in the scent of alcohol in your breath, it all checks out. Still it gets his heart to beat faster, before he can answer anything you already pull him inside. The shots Sarah had made you do, made you even more high energy than you usually were. Yet the moment you take his hand to pull him inside, you feel a strange, warm calm run through you follows by a shiver down the spine.
"You almost had me scared you forgot about me." You tease as the two of you sit down on the sofa with a drink in hand.
"I could never forget about you, but my brother called and tried to convince me to go to some party at some stupid club. Let's just say he was never the best at accepting the word no."
"Oh, you have a brother?" Your eyebrows rise so far Aemond is certainly convinced they are about to touch your hair line.
"Yeah. Two brothers actually and a sister." He admits.
"Wow and are you close with them?" As an only child you could only hardly understand what it was like to have siblings. Even if Sarah had tried to explain it to you multiple times.
"We're as close as we can be, I'd say."
"Huh, for some reason I always pegged you to be an only child..."
"How's that?" He asks while the two of you sip on your drinks, lost in the conversation.
"I don't know, probably because of your dark and mysterious brooding nature?” Playfully you pull your chin higher. “Anyway, now that you are here, do you want to dance?”
“How could I ever say no to that question…”
Over the declining bass of the music, a soft knock on the bathroom door echoes through the room. You hadn´t even noticed someone turning down the music It could have been minutes or hours since you entered the room for all you knew. Aemond´s voice calling out directly after.
With a groan you lift your head off the cold tiles on the floor. "It's open...”
The blond steps in and closes the door behind him immediately so noone else would see you in that state. Curled up on the floor with your forehead resting against the cold tiles in an attempt to cool down and fight the nausea that climbs up your throat.
"Oh I'm dreaming of you again." Your speech is slurred and quiet as if talking any louder would make you vomit. "If I wouldn't be dreaming and if you would be really here, then I would tell you I love you."
"You're drunk." He murmurs and shakes his head.
"Yes. And hopelessly in love with you." You argue with a weak voice.
Nevertheless you wrap your arms tightly around him as he picks you up off the floor. There is no lying about the state of inebriation you are in, but the conviction with which you speak also tells that you are speaking the truth. Even though he doesn't want to believe it yet.
"Come on, let's get you to bed." Aemond sighs and begins to more or less carry you back to your room.
"No..." You whine in protest. "I wanna go back to the party. I'm not even tired yet. Let's dance."
You're like a child, the blond thinks as he rolls his eyes. "No. No more dancing tonight. The party is over, it's bedtime now."
"Awww come on, Aem..." You give him your best try at a puppy eyes look, which is only half successful. Ending up more as just a pout.
Aemond´s heart beats faster at the nickname once again. Something it had done quite often in the past months whenever he saw or spoke to you he notices. Gods, he can hear his brothers laugh at him for being like this when it came to emotional matters. He doubted the excuse of Alys having fucked him up in that regard was applicable, when you where so different from her. Carefully Aemond lays you down on your bed. Taking the shoes off your already half asleep form. By the time Aemond pulls the blanket over you, the sound of soft snoring already fills the room.
The next morning you wake up alone, fully dressed, with a massive headache, a bottle of water and a note on the bedside table for the first time in a while. Telling yourself that this was exactly the reason why you never drank and swearing to every deity above or below that it would never happen again. Groaning some more at the brightness that streams through the window, you sit up in bed to take a sip of water and the pain killer right beside it. With the cotton mouth successfully fought off, you turn to the note. Wondering where the paper even came from you notice how neat and pretty the curly letters are written. The name of the addresser jumps into your eyes next. Signed at the bottom. Aemond Targaryen. As you read his name, your eyes eagerly jump to the top of the page.
I hope this note finds you well and the pain killers help any hangover you might take away from last night. I had a lot of fun with you. Also, you snore when you sleep.
Aemond Targaryen
“Fuck…” You curse under your breath. Trying to remember last night makes the headache only worse, but at least there are no gaps in your memory. Left with the memory of the blond helping your drunk self into bed, you decide to apologize to him. Freshening up and putting on some comfortable clothes, you climb down the stairs in the evening.
“Come in.” Aemond greets you with a smile as he sees the way you flinch ever so slightly at a door slamming shut somewhere.
“Thanks.” Gratefully you sit in his living room, while Aemond gets you a cup of coffee. “I- uhm, I came to apologize for last night.”
“For what?” His brows furrow together so much they almost become one.
“For getting so drunk that you had to carry me to bed. I usually am not like this at all.” Regret laces your words.
“Oh, that. Don´t sweat it. I´m kind of used to it and I still had a lot of fun.” Aemond assures immediately, but it does little to reduce the shame at your own behaviour.
“No, no. Even if you are used to it, I shouldn´t have done that. It was so stupid and unfair to you.” You lay your forehead into one hand and sigh.
“Why did you even drink so much in the first place?” He inquires.
“I kind of wanted to ask you out… but then when I threatened to chicken out so Sarah told me to drink something for courage and somewhere something became a little more and then we ended where we ended.” You feel your face begin to burn at the admission.
“You wanted to what?” A soft pink flush lays over his cheeks.
“I wanted to ask you out…” You repeat even quieter than before.
“Well, you could still do that, if you so wish to.” Your heart threatens to beat out of your ribcage as you take in his words.
Your eyes grow wide and your lips part as you look back up at him. Stumbling over your words for a while before you get out a clear sentence. “Would you like to go out with me sometime?”
“Yes, I´d like that very much. There is a new restaurant that I´ve been meaning to try out. Maybe I could pick you up in an hour?” The request makes you happier than anything. Overshadowing any of the shame you had felt previously.
“Yes, oh my god absolutely.” You jump up in a flurry of excitement, that entirely chases off the remnants of hangover. “Just give me an hour.”
The smiles on both of your faces grow incredibly big, reaching your eyes for the first time in a long time. When you go, it is so hastily you have to be careful not to fall up the stairs and even Aemond feels a certain type of happy as he changes into something more fitting with his heart skipping in his chest.
#aemond#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond x you#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x you#hotd#house of the dragon#hotd fic#house of the dragon fic#hotd x reader#hotd x you#modern aemond#hotd modern au#modern house of the dragon#modern hotd
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I Took Your Keys, It Was Me - Part 4
Noah Sebastian x Reader
Words: approx. 3.7k
A/N: This fic has been a sloooow burn, so maybe it’s time to change the pace? Thank you to everyone who has kept up with these updates to far, I’ve been uninspired and your kind words have been the only reason I have been writing this 🖤
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
The noise of sirens rang in your head, bouncing in your skull. It took minutes before the blur from eyes started to fade away, the sounds of the world coming into the correct frequency.
There was something sharp and uncomfortable poking into your side which made you squirm, still unable to fully open your eyes.
There was a crackle and some movement to your left, murmurs growing louder as each second ticked by. There was a trickle of warmth running down your face, your arm, and now that you think of it, most of your body.
The sharp pain to your left grew stronger, causing you to lurch forward and scream, the sudden pain contorting your insides into an excruciating puzzle.
The buzzing grew louder, and the lights surrounding you shone brighter than a second ago. There were noises of people and machines and cars and just about everything else that made your head spin even more, making the dizziness unbearable.
Without thinking, you twist to the side, upheaving the contents of your stomach onto the floor, leaning through an opening that wasn’t there a second ago.
You could feel arms pulling and twisting at you, and you couldn’t do anything but succumb to their will.
As the tugging of limbs pulled you from a twisted metal cave, the trance of consciousness wavered, and eventually fell silent.
The incessant beeping is what awoke you, the tight restrictions of medical tubes wrapping your arms came next. Your eyes blink slowly, bringing into focus the white clinical walls that surround you. A shadowy figure was by your side, details of their face too distorted from your blurred vision to make out who it was.
As you begin to twist, the figure moves, coming closer to you, making it easier to make out their features. It’s your friend, the one you haven't seen in weeks, the one you thought that you should tell about your dates with Noah, the same friend who came to the Bad Omens show with you way back when - all of two weeks.
Her face looks like fear being masked by a fake sense of confidence, it was easy to tell that she was putting on a brave face as if not to scare you.
She calls your name, and you respond with a slight smile.
“What on earth happened?” she asked, voice laced with worry, a hand finding their way to rub soothingly on the bare skin of your arm.
“I think…. My car… I pulled out in front of someone?” you ask, still unsure yourself, finding it difficult to make sense of the flash of memories from that moment.
She takes a moment, looking over your bandages, the tubes sticking out of you, and the drip that steadily held the pain at bay.
“Well that was kind of a stupid thing to do” she laughed, and gave you a look that you were all too used to.
You chuckle in response, her humour was something that always made you smile. The sarcastic jokes between you two growing up had become the love language of your friendship.
It was in this lull of silence that there was a knock at the door. Both your heads tilted to view who entered in.
You have a fond smile, as much as you could manage in this state, to Noah as he walked in, who looked like his eyes almost fell from their sockets. With a quick few steps, he was by your side, sitting opposite your friend.
If Noah looked shocked to see you, your friend looked like she just saw a ghost. He face didn’t move a muscle, eyes glued to Noah as she watched him take in the image of you in the hospital bed.
It was then when it clicked; you still hadn’t told her about everything.
It had all happened so fast, and you thought you were doing the right thing. Keeping your meetups private was you trying to be respectful of Noah.
Right now though, it would probably be best if your best friend had known what you had been up to.
Noah calls your name, bringing you out of the daze you were in. He looks at you with a worry stricken face.
“It’s okay, I’m okay… I think” you trail off. Your hand pats the top of his, that was hesitantly wavering on the side of the bed. Just as you feel the awkward silence begin, a doctor enters, flashing a glance between the three of you.
“You’re mostly right” he said, referring to your comment. “Lost a bit of blood, got a few cracks in the ribs, and you were severely dehydrated.”
The doctor seemed very relaxed about the state you were in, giving a strange sense of comfort. If he was calm, then you should be too.
“You’re going to need a hand moving around though. Your abdominal muscles will hurt like hell for a while. Is there someone who can assist you with daily tasks?” He asked, flicking through the clipboard of notes that hung by the end of your bed.
“Yes, she’ll be looked after” Noah responds, before even letting you speak.
“Great! You’ll be discharged soon. Take it easy and come back for a check up in a few weeks” the doctor stated, then exited the room.
“Noah…” you look at him, but he simply shakes his head.
“I’m the reason you’re here, I’ll be the reason you’ll recover just fine”. He sits back in the chair, glancing at the machines by your side. His jaw clenched as he looks away again.
“It’s not your fault” you say almost sternly, shifting as you try to sit yourself upright. The pain that tears through your abdomen makes you gasp and fall back, wincing and squeezing your eyes shut. It takes a moment for it to settle, and once it does, you let out a shaky breath.
As your eyes peel open, you look back at your friend. It was as though she was frozen. A statue. Eyes still locked on Noah, mouth slightly ajar.
“Is he the one who hit your car?!” she whispered, looking at you in a not-so-hushed tone. Her expression looked almost angry as she glanced at him again.
“No! No that’s not it!” It almost made you laugh, which hurt your chest.
“After the show the other week” you wince again, pushing in your arms to straighten yourself up. “Noah and I got talking. We've been talking.”
Her eyebrows raise in disbelief and she leans in close to you.
“Are you telling me you went on a DATE. And this has been going on for WEEKS?!” She attempts to whisper again, failing to hide her shock from Noah.
“We caught up yesterday… and today…”
Her reaction was yet again priceless. This time, along with the wide eyes, a smile graces her face, seemingly overcoming her star-struckness as she leans back in her chair.
“Do you know how insane this sounds? Like, this is actually crazy” she was now talking as if Noah wasn’t even in the room. She continued, “so, you’re dating the frontman of our favourite band?”
Your smile was all the answer she needed. She squealed in excitement, bouncing out of her chair to readjust her legs.
“You have to tell me everything about-“
She was cut off by Noah clearing his throat, a smug smile on his lips, even if he was still avoiding eye contact.
You mouth an “I promise” to your friend, who nods understandingly. She then stands, gathering her things into her bag and propping it over her shoulder.
“I’m only a phone call away. I mean it. If you need anything.” She stated matter-of-factly. You nod, squeezing her outstretched hand, before she bids her farewells and exits the room.
“She seems like a great friend” Noah comments as the door closes.
“She is. Been by my side forever” you say. Toying with the flimsy white hospital blanket. “You know you don’t need to help me. I know tour is still going and-“
“There’s nothing you need to worry about. It’s all been handled” he says calmly, intertwining his hand with your fidgeting one, looping his fingers between yours.
“Thank you” you say with a shaky voice. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were scared.
Over the next few hours, there are a few more visits from nurses, making sure that the injuries weren’t serious and that you were in the clear to leave. They seemed relieved when they saw the way Noah held out his hand for you to steady your balance. Despite a feeble attempt to walk on your own, he was insistent, and you couldn’t deny that it was indeed helpful to have him there.
He helped you into a cab that was ready and waiting, and you gave the directions to your home.
The cab ride was quiet, but Noah kept his hand in yours. He was careful as to not squeeze too hard as to hurt the bruising, and rushed as fast as he could to hold the door open for you when you finally arrived home.
You step from the cab and gather your belongings in a small bag, which Noah promptly takes for you and slings over his shoulder. You huff in response.
“I’ll need that so that I can unlock the front door.” You hold out a hand expectantly, but Noah ignores it. Instead, he runages through the tote, shuffling back the phone, wallet, even a stray tampon, and then raises the keys triumphantly. A few silver keys dangled, paired with your old key ring and the key to your car.
“I remember these!” He said happily as he reminisced on the story of how you met.
“That seems like forever ago” you reply, following as Noah walks towards the door, swinging it open and motioning his hand in front of him.
You step through the threshold and into your living room, glancing around to see the scattered mess that you had left pieces of clothing strewn carelessly by your bedroom door, after the fiasco that had made you be in such a rush earlier that morning. It was a little embarrassing, but with the feeling of drowsiness starting to set in, it didn’t really bother you that much.
Noah walks past you, placing your bag of belongings into the small island that was the center of your kitchen. He notices the yawn you let out and walks over to you, gently placing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you into a hug.
Your arms curl up to his chest as you rest your shoulder on him, his heartbeat steady beneath his shirt. Your eyes close, and you let out a breath, feeling content for the first time in hours.
“You should probably get some sleep. I’ll be right here if you need anything.” His grip tightens, and then loosens, as if to gesture to you to do as he says.
And you were not in the mood to argue. “Make yourself at home” you say, looking up at him drowsily, and he offers you a sweet smile back.
Without anything else said, you turn, heading straight for your bedroom. With the door closed, lights off, and finally under the covers, it didn’t take long to fall into a deep sleep.
It might have been the pain killers, the dark room, and just because you were flat-out exhausted, but it was hours later when you finally woke up.
There was no way of knowing what hour it was, your phone was somewhere else and the sky outside was a dark veil of a blue-black. Tip-toeing to the door, it creaks open, the light from the kitchen and living area still alight.
The clock on the wall shows the hands pointed at 12:45AM, and the TV continued to play a show that you hadn’t seen before. You walk towards the lounge, trying your best to be quiet on the hardwood floors as you could see an arm slung sleepily over the edge of the lounge, but fail once something twitches inside you, tugging at the injuries. You let out an involuntary yelp, falling forwards, arm only just catching the back of the sofa. Your other arm curled around your torso, clutching as though you were trying to hold yourself together. Tears started to well up and you were breathing heavily, huffing to try and control the searing pain that was starting to spread.
You startle Noah as he jolts upright in a panic, his hair completely strewn. His eyes are still half closed as he stumbles to his feet over to you, tripping over his feet a little. When he reaches your side, he helps you, taking a hand in yours, the other hand resting on your shoulder, semi-carrying your weight to lead you to sit down.
He steadies you as you lower, sitting while letting out a shaky breath. He still had your hand, clutching your fingers between his as your heartbeat finally started to come down to a normal pace.
Noah’s face was still covered in shock, processing what was happening around him. He looked concerned, hesitant to move, to touch you or help in any other way.
“I’m…. so…. sorry…” you huffed between breaths.
“S’okay” he murmured in response, clearly still half asleep.
“I can’t believe you’re still here” you say, looking at Noah, who met your eyes. It was an attempt to fill the silence growing in the room, and to distract you from the throbbing still occurring in your ribs.
“I wasn’t going to leave you here on your own.”
“You have things to do, shows to play. You can stay here, of course, but don’t you need to leave soon?”
“You don’t need to worry about that.” It was the casualness that he said it, that made you worry.
“What do you mean by that?” You ask, and he smiles, looking down at your hands.
“Everything has been sorted.” He comments, wriggling his fingers, turning your hand over in his.
“You’re awfully vague for someone who has everything planned out,” now you’re watching your hands, Noah begins to trace the lines of blue veins he sees under your skin.
“You didn’t cancel, did you?” It was almost embarrassing how fast you came to that conclusion, but he chuckles.
“No, the show is still happening. It’s not that far of a drive. Everyone else is heading in earlier, and I’ll meet them before the show starts.” He places your hand down, lifting his arm to rest over your shoulder. “And so will you.”
You look at him, unsure of what he was going on about.
“I don’t ha-“
“Like I said. It’s sorted.” He gives a small eyebrow raise as if to imply ‘I win’.
You, on the other hand, determined to flesh out as many details, pressed on.
“So how will we get there?”
“Car.” Noah was quick to respond.
“Who’s car?”
“Hire.”
“How long of a drive?”
“‘Bout an hour.”
He was looking smug now. You thought quickly to come up with more questions.
“What about after the show?”
“I’ll drive you back.”
“You’re not doing that.” You demand. That was too much on him.
“Yes I am.” He sounded like a stubborn child.
“It’ll be too late.”
His head rolls to the side, looking directly into your eyes.
“I’m a big boy, I can drive at night.”
It might have been the confidence that oozed from his voice, or the fact that he just called himself a ‘big boy’, but you felt something flip inside your stomach, a heat rising up to your chest, red bow flushing your cheeks with a hot glow.
All you could offer was a smile, looking back into his dark oak eyes. The way he was looking at you made you feel the safest you had ever felt.
Something came over you, and you held your breath, eyes slipping closed as you lean in, ever so slightly to Noah.
It could have been a hug, a kiss on the check, or something more mundane, but Noah knew this was an invitation. One he happily and needily accepted.
His lips meet yours, keeping his pressure light, but you needed a little more than that. You leaned more into the kiss, and he read the message loud and clear. His body shifts so that he’s facing you, leaning back and pulling you with him to sit atop his lap. Your lips are moving a little faster now, starting to part ever so slightly, so much that you can just feel Noah sweep his tongue over your lip. You reciprocate the action, holding onto either side of his face with your hands, knees now pinned on either side of his torso. Your lips part again, this time offering your tongue, and Noah opens needily. His breath is hot on your face as he tries to hold back every nerve in his body from taking this too far.
His head shifts closer to you, doing what he can in such confined space to bring you closer to him. His mouth moves with intent, like he was controls g each micro movement of his.
With the slightest tilt of your head, Noah’s lips crept to the nape of your neck, leaving a trail of fire where his lips and tongue darted across your skin. His hands gripped at your waist, digging into the sensitive skin being exposed from your shirt being tugged up just a little. His thumb rubbed carefully as though to say sorry, even though he wasn’t apologetic in the slightest.
All your mouth could do, while Noah’s lips were now starting to run down to your collarbone, was hang open. The sensation, the heat, and the overwhelming fire inside you made it impossible to move, just in case if you did then all this would stop.
Noah watched the way you were falling apart, and he loved every second of it. He had been waiting for this moment for so long, he wasn’t going to hold back anymore.
When his mouth returned to yours, you followed his lead. Tongues were dancing intricately and intensely with each other. Heavy breathing would waft in brief periods when either if you needed a second to catch your breath, so the other would find something else to do with their mouth.
His hands are tight on your hips, fingers trailing up and down under your shirt, leaving the slightest of red marks from the pressure. It took everything in you to ignore the glaring pain that burned in your ribs, the feeling of fire ripping from both sides made your breath stop. Your head lifts a little, slowing down your passionate kiss, but Noah raises his head with yours, although as to make the moment linger for just a while longer.
You hated to do it, but there was no choice. The already existing bruises and injuries, paired with the lack of oxygen from not breathing properly was enough to make you lightheaded. You would have doubled over if you hadn’t already been laying horizontally.
You pull away, shifting so your hands are in fists on either side of Noah, bundled up and pressed into the thick fabric of the lounge. Eyes are tightly squeezed shut to focus on controlling your breaths.
Noah watches as a panic starts to rise.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-“
“Noah, shut up.” You bark. His rambling makes it harder to will yourself to sit upright.
You push yourself back, now kneeling back in your legs, perched on Noah’s lap. Brushing your hair from your face, it takes a moment to steady yourself, but after twenty seconds, your eyes open. The pain is starting to subside.
Noah looks like he was in trouble. He held his hands up in surrender beneath you. Eyes blown wide as he took in the sight of you sitting precariously close to a certain something he had no control over in his pants.
He begins to shift beneath you, pulling himself up onto his elbows, eyeing you warily.
“Was that too much?” He questions.
One of your hands goes to rub the side of your face, eyes droop closed. You nod in response to him.
“It just hurt a little.”
You hadn’t noticed the tear that slipped out until it rolled down your cheek and fell onto Noah’s white shirt. His hand rubs up and down your arm to comfort you. With another shaky exhale, you open your eyes. Noah is being careful, despite his own desires at the moment, he looks at you as if to find the answer to what you need in your eyes.
“Thank you,” you finally say.
“For comforting you, or for kissing you?”
“…is it too weird to say both?” You both chuckle at the awkward remark. “I guess making out while you have injuries from a car accident isn’t the best way to have your first kiss together.”
Your legs slip off Noah, standing slowly and straightening out the clothes which had become so very twisted in the moments before. Noah sits up too, tugging at the sweatpants so they sit better, before reaching for a pillow, placing it gently on his lap.
You raise an eyebrow at him, before letting out a gutsy laugh. His eyes widen and looks to be shy all of a sudden.
“What?! I’m trying not to ruin the moment!” He states, but you can’t respond, still laughing at the innocence contrasted with the reason.
“Look, there’s other ways to get rid of it” he murmurs beneath his breath, teasingly, yet cautiously. His eyes are on you, wondering if the lewd joke had pushed the boundaries.
There was no denying the fire of lust burning in you, the way he made you feel made you weak at the knees.
“If it weren’t for these injuries, I’m sure we’d be finding out what those ways are.”
The somewhat directness from you caught him a little off guard, and it turned him on even more. He had to shift in his heat and readjust the pillow just to make his arousal a little less obvious.
You couldn’t help but giggle at his flustered state, and the way he looked away from you when you turned to see his reaction. He even raised his hand, biting down on a finger in an attempt to distract himself.
You laugh again, knowing full well nothing else could happen. These injuries were cockblocking you to the extreme. As inviting and tempting as he was, the pain wasn’t worth it. He knew it too.
After the moment had passed, Noah shifted again, moving the pillow so it sat by his side. He padded it, and you lay down, placing your head on the pillow. His fingers start to tangle with your hair, pulling and twirling the loose threads that were strewn across your face.
The low murmur from the TV was enough of a lullaby, paired with Noah’s careful caressing, that you drifted off to sleep soon enough. Noah stayed awake for a little while longer though. He watched the way your eyes fluttered behind their kids. The way your face would twitch or twist as your dreams u folded before you. He also noticed the way your body relaxed when he gently placed a hand on your side, thumb rubbing careful circles to sooth you.
Just as he was about to fall into a slumber, we was on the brink of a dream state himself, when you utter his name. A loving smile graced your face, and it made Noah’s heart swell tenfold. He knew, after this moment, he would do anything in his power to keep you.
Part 5
#bad omens#noah sebastian#bad omens band#bad omens fanfiction#fan fiction#fanfic#bad omens fic#bad omens fan fics#bad omens fanfic#bad omens fan fic#bad omens cult#noah sebastian bad omens#noah sebastian fan fiction#noah sebastian fanfic#noah sebastian fic#noah sebastian fanfiction#noah sebastian x reader#badnoahmens
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PAS DE DEUX || w.maximoff
Summary you grapple with the intensity with your feelings for Wanda and through a powerful dance your love and longing for one another are vividly unveiled
Warnings: angst, brief arguing, happy endings, kissing, forbidden love, allusions to homophobia, secret romance, my fav sappic balerinas, they r so cute im gonna sob!!
Pairing: ballerinaWanda! x ballerina!reader
WC: 3.5k
Note: this was sm fun to write i am obsessed
———
In the heart of the cold city, hidden behind a façade of faded grandeur, stood the enigmatic Thornfield School of Ballet. Within its dimly lit corridors and ornate ballrooms, the ethereal art of ballet was practiced with an intensity that mirrored the shadows that danced upon the walls. It was here that you found solace, your delicate movements and haunting grace resonating with the melancholic melodies that echoed through the grand hallways.
The Thornfield Opera House stood silent and grand, its vast expanse illuminated only by the silvery glow of the moon filtering through the tall, arched windows. The night felt like it swallowed you. The silence and loneliness of the dark gave you a heightened sense of focus. Dressed in a simple leotard and ballet skirt, you moved gracefully to the center of the stage. The empty red velvet seats, normally bustling with anticipation, now looked like slumbering sentinels in the darkness.
You were a brilliant and elegant dancer, the prima ballerina of the Thornfield Ballet School. Your every step seemed to weave magic, casting a spell over the audience with each performance. The years of training and dedication cultivated you so that you weren't just a dancer but a conduit for the very essence of the art form.
A sigh escaped your lips as you raised your arms, the opening strains of a haunting melody filled your ears. The music existed within the depths of your memory, each note etched into your soul. It was a melody only you could hear, a secret dance between you and the music of your heart.
With a deep breath, you began to move. Each step was deliberate, each extension of your limbs an expression of the emotions that swirled within you. The moonlight cast delicate shadows that danced along with you, a spectral audience that whispered its approval in the rustling of fabric
Your body twisted and turned across the stage and the opera house felt as if it came alive around you. The soft echos of your footfalls echoed throughout the grand hall, filling the space with a magical resonance.
The empty velvet red chairs surrounded you, blurring into a hue of gold and scarlet as you spun and twirled across the stage. The spotlight illuminated your form, casting long, enchanting shadows that stretched toward the edges of the grand hall. Your body seemed to merge with the haunting music, each note a whispered secret between you and the piano keys
You imagined thousands of eyes on you, each one locked in a mesmerizing trance that only you could break. You lost yourself in the dance, completely surrendering yourself to the music's embrace.
The final strains of the music echoed through the hall, and you froze in a final, breathtaking pose. The world felt like it held its breath for a moment before a figure emerged from the shadows of the audience.
“You know I don't like it when you come and watch me unannounced”
You spoke into the dark crowd. You didn't even need to see her to know who she was. A vibrant flash of red hair was illuminated by the spotlight as she stepped onto the stage.
“You’re glowing my love, How could I not stay and watch” she voiced, coming across the stage, wanting to be closer to you.
Wanda Maximoff, the embodiment of enigmatic allure, graced the Thornfield Opera House with a presence that demanded attention. With each step she took, the air seemed to shift around her, charged with an energy that was at once magnetic and captivating. A vibrant mane of crimson hair framed her face like a fiery halo, accentuating her aura of intensity.
As one of Thornfield's top dancers, Wanda's brilliance on stage was undeniable. Her movements bore the hallmark of a maestro, each gesture calculated and precise, cutting through the air like a sharpened blade. her performances left an indelible mark on the hearts of those who witnessed them.
The contrast between your styles was like a beautifully orchestrated duet: While you danced with the gentle grace of a waltz, guided by the melodies that flowed through your soul, Wanda's dance was a tempestuous tango, a dance with the shadows and the edge of passion. Her movements were sharper, her steps darker, and her presence engulfed the stage like a storm, leaving no corner untouched by her intensity.
Where your dance was a soothing balm, Wanda's was a consuming fire. Your elegance and grace resonated like a sonnet, whereas Wanda's movements told a story of calculated power. In your delicate pirouettes and fluid arabesques, there was a serenity that brought solace to the heart, like a gentle lullaby. But in Wanda's commanding leaps and controlled spins, there was a darkness that beckoned, a realm where passion and pain coexisted.
Wanda Maximoff, with her entrancing presence and mesmerizing dance, had woven her way into your heart in ways you never imagined. From the first time you saw her onstage, you were already hers. The secret romance that blossomed between you two was a delicate tapestry of stolen glances, secret rendezvous, and the softest of touches. Your attachment to her felt like poisonous vines, both intoxicating and dangerous. Squeezing around your heart until there was no escaping its grip.
As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the intensity of your feelings for Wanda began to stir a twinge of fear deep within you. The opera house, was a haven for your love, a place where you and Wanda could share stolen moments in the shadows. Yet, the world outside those walls was a different story altogether.
The truth was, relationships like yours and Wanda's were not welcomed with open arms within the confines of Thornfield. The Society's rigid expectations and conservative norms casted a long shadow over any love that dared to deviate from the conventional path. If your feelings were exposed, you both knew that you would face the harsh reality of ostracization. Given your elevated position within the ballet company, the fallout could be even more devastating. You yearned to dance freely with Wanda, to hold her close without the weight of hidden affections, but the thought of the world discovering your love kept you trapped in a ruthless cycle of avoidance.
As she began to approach you, you instinctively turned away, a motion that caused a flicker of hurt to cross Wanda's expression. Her smile faltered, and you silently crossed the stage, heading toward the speaker in order to switch to a different song.
“I need to practice, Wanda,” you spoke without facing her, hoping she would take the hint to leave you.
"You've been avoiding me," she suddenly declared, her voice ringing out in the open space. She came to a halt at the center stage, her gaze fixed firmly on your form. The intensity of her eyes holding you in place.
The intimacy you shared with her had grown to such profound heights that the mere thought of it sent shivers down your spine. Each stolen kiss and every whispered promise felt like a thread connecting you to a love that was becoming too powerful to be contained. And so, you found yourself avoiding her, retreating into the shadows like a fragile creature seeking solace from the storm.
In your heart, you knew that Wanda sensed your distance, your absence from her side even in a crowded room. The weight of your unspoken emotions was presence, that casted a shadow over your every interaction. She, with her intuitive nature, surely understood that something was wrong, even if the words went unspoken.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Wanda," you deflected, your voice tinged with a hint of unease.
“Yes, you do.” Her strides toward you were purposeful, carrying an air of frustration and longing
“You've stopped meeting me in the garden. you leave your door locked at night. You won't even look at me during rehearsal.” The light in her eyes dimmed, mirroring the distance that had inadvertently arisen. She, no doubt, grappled with the same intensity of your connection, the love that had burgeoned between you.
The guilt gnawed at you, knowing that Wanda deserved more than your silence, more than your hesitation. She deserved the world, and yet here you were, your heart caught in a tug-of-war between your love for her and the fear that had taken root within you.
"I've just been busy," you offered, your voice lacking the conviction it needed. The truth was, you couldn't bring yourself to lie, especially not to Wanda. Without meeting her gaze, you brushed past her, your eyes fixed on the sea of empty chairs as you prepared for the next song.
"Just as I said, I need to practice. I don't have time for this," you continued, your words slightly rushed, a veil of anxiety underscoring them. The show was fast approaching, and the pressure weighed heavily on you. "The performance is on Friday, and I barely have my part of the pas de deux down, and—"
"Fine then, I'll stay and help you," she interrupted, her voice carrying an unwavering determination. Wanda understood you better than anyone else. She knew that ballet was your lifeblood, your very essence. If that was the avenue she had to take to reach you, then so be it.
As the music began to fade in, she moved closer, bridging the gap between you. You stared at her, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty in your eyes. Was she serious?
Although Wanda wasn't your official partner in the pas de deux, her innate talent and brilliance made it easy for her to memorize the choreography. She had watched the routine countless times, During rehearsals, you'd often catch her gaze fixed on you, burning ache evident in her eyes. You wished it was her presence by your side, her soft, delicate hands on you, instead of the rough masculine ones whisking you through the air.
She took your hand in hers, her touch a warm reassurance that sent a shiver down your spine. You glanced at her one last time before the dance commenced, your movements seeming almost too deliberate, lacking the usual fluidity that came so naturally to you. Every step felt calculated as if you were trying to maintain a distance that your heart was struggling to obey. Wanda's gaze, however, remained fixed on you, unwavering and intense.
With each movement, her eyes searched yours, probing for answers to the questions you hadn't voiced. The emotions that played across her face were a silent plea, a desperate attempt to understand the reason behind your avoidance. Yet, even as you tried to keep your focus on the dance, the intensity of her gaze was a distraction you couldn't escape.
“Relax,” Wanda's voice cut through the tension, her hands on your waist guiding your movements. Your arms extended gracefully on each side, and your toes pointed delicately against the smooth wooden stage
In that instant, Wanda's movements shifted, becoming more edged and intense. She led you through a series of intricate steps, each one a silent declaration of her love and devotion to you. As the music swelled, your bodies came alive, moving in perfect synchrony. You began with a series of intertwining pirouettes, your movements mirroring Wandas with an effortless harmony. With every rotation, your eyes met briefly, a fleeting connection that spoke volumes beyond words.
You battled with your own emotions, your heart warring with your mind. You were determined to maintain the distance you believed was necessary to protect yourself and Wanda from the intensity of your shared feelings. The love you felt for her was a tempestuous sea, and you feared being swept away by its currents.
Yet, As you moved as one there was an undeniable chemistry, an untamed force driving you towards her. Her eyes followed your every move, filled with a love that yearned to be free from constraints.
Wanda's touch was gentle yet firm, her hands on your waist guiding your movements with a confidence that only came from a deep understanding. As you twirled and spun, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a realm where the intensity of your love was matched only by the beauty of your dance.
When the music built to its crescendo, Wanda's grip on you tightened her touch a grounding force in the midst of your internal storm. And in that final, breathtaking pose, as the music lingered in the air, your eyes locked onto each other's, a world of unspoken words passing between you.
As your heavy breathing slowed, the moment was broken when you turned away, walking out of her embrace,
“Why won't you just let me love you,” her voice echoed in the space, a plea that hung in the air like an unanswered question.
"Because I can't, Wanda," You whispered, your voice tinged with a hint of sadness. The reality of the situation weighed heavily, the knowledge that your love existed in a world that did not understand.
“Yes, you can” she countered, coming closer to you.
“People will find out. And when they find out theyll talk.” you exasperated, The weight of the world's judgment pressed down on you, suffocating the love that burned within you.
Wanda turned to face you, her expression determined. "Then hide me. Lock me away from the world if you have to," She breathed out, her voice carrying a plea that mirrored the depth of her feelings. She was willing to sacrifice her visibility, her place in the world, if it meant keeping your love intact. “I just want to be with you Y/n. Why can't you see that?”
It was your deep affection for her that filled you with guilt, knowing that she deserved better than waht you were giving her. You believed she deserved someone who would cherish her openly, free from the shackles of secrecy that bound your love. Wanda's passion, her unwavering commitment, made your heart ache with love for her, but it also filled you with an overwhelming sense of guilt. You loved her so much that it hurt, and you wanted nothing more than to see her happy.
“I can't do that to you, Wanda.” Guilt welled up inside you, emotions spilling over like a river bursting its banks. “You deserve to be with someone different. Someone who can love you without fear.”
“But I don't want that!” Her breathing was heavy and her, eyes burned with anger. "I am yours, Y/n," she declared, her voice sharp with passion. "All I want in return is your love, And you can't even give me that.”
You noticed how her bottom lip pushed out ever so slightly, just like it always did when she was trying not to cry.
The pain of your recent avoidance cut deep into her heart, leaving a constant ache that refused to subside. All she wanted was you, all she ever wanted was you, and your unmistakable withdrawal over the past few months had left her feeling lost in a suffocating pit of self-doubt. Why were you so eager to get away from her? Why couldn't she make you stay, even when she had tried her hardest? Was she not good enough to hold your attention?
These questions ate away at her and she had never felt so small, like an insignificant fragment in a world that once felt whole.
“You ignore me and push me away without any explanation.” Her voice was loud as it echoed across the stage. The hurt and insecurity painted on her face. “You're always leaving me. It's like you don't even care about my feelings!”
“Of course I care about your feelings” You turned to her, your own anger begining to rise up inside you. “You’re all I think about, everything I do is for you!”
Every choice you had made was for Wanda, every step you had taken was to protect her from the storm that could come crashing down upon you both. Your love was genuine, but the fear was suffocating, threatening to eclipse everything
"You think this isn't hard for me?" your voice cracked with frustration, your eyes blazing with a mixture of emotions. "I am terrified, Wanda. Every time I see you or feel you, it's like I'm drowning in the fear of what could happen.”
"You make me feel things I never wanted to feel," your breath came out in rapid bursts, as your vision became clouded by tears. "And I'm afraid that those feelings will be written all over me,” Your emotions began to feel overwhelming, the room closing in around you, suffocating you with its walls and the weight of your fear. “So this is the only way I know how to keep us safe, to keep you safe." Your words were punctuated by a sob, choked and raw. The walls you had erected were crumbling, and you were left standing bare before Wanda.
“and It's hard Wanda, it's so fucking hard. I miss you, all the time.” the confession tumbled out, your voice breaking as tears cascaded down your cheeks, the floodgates finally opening.
At the sight of your panicked tears, Wanda immediately rushed to you, her steps were loud across the stage until she caught you in her embrace, wrapping her arms around you in a warm, comforting hold, Wishing she could take away all the pain and fear you felt at that moment.
“Im sorry, Im sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to yell.” The tenderness in her voice was like a soothing balm, her arms holding you even tighter, as you fell into her body.
"I can’t-” You gasped, The fabric of her shirt absorbed the tears that fell from your eyes, “I cant loose you wanda”
The sobs that wracked your body were a release, a catharsis of emotions that had been pent up for far too long.
“You’re not. You are absolutely not losing me,” she reassured you, her words slightly muffled as she pressed kisses to your tear-stained cheeks. You instinctively clung onto her, worried she would disappear.
With her arms wrapped around you, Wanda's touch became your anchor. Her hands moved in tender circles on your back, a gesture of comfort that sent ripples of calm through your frazzled nerves. At that moment, the world seemed to blur and fade, leaving only the two of you cocooned in an intimate haven of solace
Your heartbeat slowed and your breathing relaxed against her. Her breath brushed against your ear, her voice was a gentle whisper, "I can't be without you, y/n" she admitted, spilling out the truths in her heart. “I know you're scared but please don't push me away.” The tenderness in her voice deepened as she continued, her words a balm to your fears. “I don't know what will happen in the future but I can swear to you that im not going anywhere.”
In those words, a sense of solace enveloped you, like a gentle embrace for your weary heart. With her by your side, the fear that had kept you captive began to lose its grip, replaced by a flicker of hope and the reassurance that you didn't have to carry the burden alone.
“Im sorry I avoided you” You whispered not bringing your gaze up to face Wanda as if you were hiding from your actions. “I was awful. I should have just talked to you.”
Wanda brought her hand to your chin tilting your face up until your eyes met hers.
"It's okay, I know you're trying to protect us both," she said softly, her voice carrying a weight of sincerity. "But you don't have to do it alone. Whatever happens, We can face it together."
You closed your eyes for a moment, letting Wanda's words melt into your skin. The attentiveness of her understanding touched you deeply, and You started to wonder how you could ever be away from her.
“I love you, so much,” you confessed hoping she could feel your sincerity “And i’m so sorry that I ever made you feel like I didnt.”
Her relief evident in her smile. She cupped your face, her touch grounding you in the present moment. Wanda leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a sweet kiss.
“I love you, more than you could ever know.”
In that stolen moment on the stage, beneath the watchful eyes of the empty velvet seats, your love was a dance in itself – a dance of vulnerability and strength, of passion and tenderness. And as you held each other close, you knew that the opera house, with all its secrets and faded grandeur, held a space where your love could flourish, defying the boundaries of time and circumstance.
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x y/n#marvel#elizabeth olsen#fanfic#angst#ballet#wanda x reader#wanda maximoff fanfiction
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